GIFT  ©F 
Hearst  Fountain 


THE 
SHADOW 

OF 

THE  ASTRAL 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE 


BY 

LOUIS  PLANTE 


Published  by 

THE  AUSTIN  PUBLISHING  CO. 
Los  Angeles,  California 


Copyright,    1921 
By  LOUIS  PL  ANTE 


Scenario,  Dramatization  and 
all  other  rights  reserved. 

Foreign  rights  reserved. 


FOREWORD 

Here  is  a  book  that  may  be  regarded  as  an  ex- 
tended Commentary  and  an  Object  Lesson  on  that 
wonderful  New  Testament  text:  "He  that  overcom- 
eth  shall  inherit  all  things." 

It  is  quite  true  that  it  contains  the  usual  Romance, 
Tragedy  and  strong  emotional  appeals  that  charac- 
terize the  ordinary  novel;  yet  the  great  central  teach- 
ing of  the  book  is  the  emergence  of  a  human  soul 
from  "The  Shadow  of  the  Astral"  into  the  higher 
consciousness  of  Life  and  Reality. 

The  Theme  is,  therefore,  the  greatest  that  can  en- 
gage the  attention  of  human  thought — the  Pathway 
through  which  the  soul  climbs  from  the  low  grounds 
of  material  ideas  and  ideals  upward  to  the  conscious 
recognition  of  those  Great  Spiritual  Realities  of  life 
which  are  altogether  unknown  to  the  masses  of 
earth's  denizens. 

While  the  numerous  characters  in  the  story  all 
stand  out  distinct  and  clear  in  their  personalities, 
those  of  Herminio,  the  Anchorite,  and  Anthony,  the 
Truth  Seeker,  are  sketched  with  masterly  hand,  and 
hold  the  center  of  the  stage  throughout  the  narrative 
and  focalize  the  interest  of  the  reader. 


Lovers  of  the  Metaphysical  and  the  Occult  will 
find  herein  a  wealth  of  phenomenal  experiences  and 
very  clear  and  rational  interpretation  thereof  that 
will  make  the  volume  one  of  deep  interest  and  value 
to  them. 

Here  will  be  found  full  recognition  of  the  won- 
drous and  far-reaching  power  of  thought;  the  close 
relationship  in  consciousness  between  minds  incar- 
nate and  minds  discarnate ;  the  great  fact  of  Spiritual 
Guardianship  and  Guidance  most  effectively  set 
forth ;  and  many  of  the  occult  laws  that  govern  the 
soul's  evolutionary  progress  stated  and  expounded. 

It  may,  indeed,  be  truthfully  asserted  that  every 
reader  of  this  book  who  is  a  genuine  seeker  after 
truth,  will  sit  with  great  delight  beside  Anthony  at 
the  feet  of  Herminio  and  drink  in  gratefully  the  rich 
lessons  of  spiritual  instruction  from  his  inspired  lips. 

All  who  have  uttered  Goethe's  prayer  "Light! 
more  Light,"  or  followed  the  "Gleam"  of  Tennyson, 
a  light  never  yet  seen  on  land  or  sea,  or  prayed  with 
Newman,  "Lead,  Kindly  Light,"  will  read  with  most 
intense  interest  of  the  many  lights  that  manifested 
in  the  lives  of  Herminio  and  of  Anthony  and  the 
masterly,  yet  natural  explanations  given  in  the  nar- 
rative. 


To  many,  doubtless,  the  most  interesting  and 
captivating  of  all  the  Chapters  will  be  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  midnight  entertainment  of  "The  Astral 
Players"  who  entertain  Anthony  in  the  forest  under 
the  silvery  moonlight  where  speech,  music,  poetry, 
song,  merriment  and  instruction  are  delightfully 
mingled  and  afterwards  expounded  to  him — that  is 
to  say,  to  every  reader  of  the  book.  It  will  be  difficult, 
we  venture  to  say,  to  find  in  modern  fiction  any  fea- 
ture more  unique  and  beautiful  than  this  midnight 
Entertainment  of  the  Astral  Players. 

The  poetic  sections  of  the  book  are  numerous,  in 
some  cases  extensive,  with  many  gleams  of  poetic 
beauty,  in  not  a  few  instances  rising  to  a  high  level 
of  thought  and  beauty  of  expression. 

The  book,  we  believe,  will  be  recognized  as  a  divine 
Allegory  and  take  its  place  with  Bunyan's  "Pilgrim's 
Progress." 

The  reader  found  its  pages  interesting  and  in- 
structive throughout  and  it  is  certainly  a  pleasure 
to  commend  it  as  a  book  with  a  mission  to  humanity. 

B.  F.  AUSTIN. 
May  25th,  1921 

Los  Angeles,  Calif. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     HERMINIO  THE  SEER 9 

II.  THE  CHARACTER  OF  ANTHONY....  21 

III.  REGINA  THE   FLOWER  GIRL 33 

IV.  THE  COURTSHIP  OF  ANTHONY 49 

V.     ADVENTURES  IN  THE  ALPS 61 

VI.  THE  MEETING  WITH  HERMINIO....  83 

VII.     THE  RETURN 107 

VIII.  THE  FUTURE  CASTS  ITS 

SHADOW  115 

IX.  THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  MESSINA..123 

X.     CHAOS   133 

XI.     DESPAIR  145 

XII.  THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL....151 

XIII.  A  GLEAM  OF  HOPE 163 

XIV.  A  SUBJECTIVE  REVELATION 171 

XV.     THE  MASTER  AND  HIS  PUPIL 191 

XVI.     ALEXIS  THE   SINGER 203 

XVII.     THE   ASTRAL  PLAYERS 233 

XVIII.     THE   PICTURE    WORLD 295 

XIX.     THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 309 

XX.  CONCLUSION    .                                     ....323 


The  Shadow  of  the  Astral. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Herminio  the  Seer. 

I  linger  yet  with  Nature,  for  the  night 
Hath  been  to  me  a  more  familiar  face 
Than  that  of  man;  and  in  her  starry  shade 
Of  dim  and  solitary  loveliness, 
I  learn'd  the  language  of  another  world. 

— Manfred. 

During  the  closing  years  of  the  nineteenth  Cen- 
tury, there  lived  in  one  of  the  cantons  of  Switzer- 
land an  old  man  of  peculiar  habits,  and  character  of 
thought.  His  abode,  a  small  hut,  was  situated  in  a 
solitude  of  the  Alps,  well  secluded  from  intrusion, 
the  nearest  village  being  distant  about  three  miles. 
Here  Herminio,  for  that  was  the  old  man's  name, 
lived  alone,  amid  the  solitudes  of  nature.  His  dwell- 
ing was  the  work  of  his  own  hands;  being  built 
partly  of  stone  and  partly  of  timber  it  presented  a 
curious  contrast,  while  the  roof  was  held  in  place 
by  heavy  stones  and  boulders.  At  the  rear  of  the 
hermitage,  for  such  we  will  now  call  it,  there  was  a 
small  inclosure,  into  which  Herminio  drove  his  few 
sheep  and  goats  every  evening  shortly  after  sun- 
down. His  evening  meal  consisting  solely  of  nuts, 
fruit  and  milk  was  taken  at  twilight,  after  which  he 
spent  some  time  in  meditation  and  retired. 

According  to  the  story  of  the  villagers  Herminio 
had  lived  in  the  neighborhood  forty-five  years.  Some- 
times, however,  these  statements  were  contradicted, 


10         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

it  being  claimed  by  others  that  he  had  always  been 
known  as  an  old  man.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  fact 
remained  that  the  oldest  inhabitants  of  the  region 
had  always  remembered  even  their  elders  speak  of 
him  as  the  venerable  recluse,  with  the  snow-white 
hair  and  beard.  These  statements  when  deeply  con- 
sidered, never  failed  to  throw  an  air  of  mystery 
around  the  old  sage  of  the  mountains.  How  long  he 
had  actually  lived  in  the  solitudes  so  near  to  them, 
was  not,  after  all,  so  important  a  question.  What 
they  would  have  known  was,  what  were  his  under- 
lying motives  and  the  chief  mainspring  of  his  life 
and  actions.  This  secret,  however  much  they  strove 
to  discover,  always  eluded  them.  But  what  of  that? 
Was  it  not  enough  to  know  he  was  their  greatest 
friend?  Was  he  not  always  near  them  in  perplexity, 
sorrow  and  death?  Were  not  his  words  a  sweet 
musical  cadence  comforting  them  in  affliction?  Did 
they  not  hear  from  his  own  lips  the  Divine  truth: 
"My  children,  thank  God  for  your  afflictions,  for  it 
is  only  through  affliction  and  sorrow  that  your 
hearts  can  be  softened."  What  man  among  them 
could  give  utterance  to  such  truth  and  put  it  forth 
in  so  beautiful  a  form?  Surely  here  was  a  being 
above  the  type  of  ordinary  man.  Not  only  did  he 
comfort  them  by  personal  visits  in  their  hours  of  ad- 
versity, for  when  that  was  not  possible  a  letter  would 
reach  them  which  had  been  written  by  his  own  hand. 
How  many  a  mother  had  been  comforted  by  such 
messages  on  the  death  of  her  beloved  child!  How 
many  a  father  had  seen  and  read  the  words  of  com- 
fort when  some  wayward  son  had  unexpectedly  left 
the  home — perhaps  never  to  return. 

These  incidents,  as  before  stated,  not  only  cast  an 
air  of  mystery  around  the  character  of  Herminio, 
but  in  addition  this  was  accompanied  by  an  attitude 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  // 

towards  him  of  the  most  profound  respect.  Of  his 
inner  life  and  practices  his  friends  knew  nothing.  It 
was  only  the  outer  manifestations  of  which  they  had 
any  knowledge.  He  did  not  receive  any  visitors  in 
his  mountain  home.  Here  he  remained  shielded  by 
nature  from  the  lower  vibrations,  which  in  the 
blessed  moments  of  silence  he  did  not  wish  to  re- 
ceive. Not  because  of  any  pride  in  his  heart  did  he 
in  such  a  way  seclude  himself  from  his  friends,  for 
pride  was  an  emotion  entirely  foreign  to  his  nature, 
but  to  co-operate  with  certain  occult  laws  which  con- 
trolled and  governed  his  own  individual  development, 
it  was  necessary  that  he  should  remain  for  some 
hours  each  day,  wrapped  in  abstract  thought.  From 
his  reveries  he  came  forth  rested  and  rejuvenated, 
inspired  and  uplifted,  full  of  faith  and  superhuman 
courage,  to  help  his  younger  brothers  in  the  Way 
of  Life. 

From  the  description  given  of  the  character  of 
Herminio,  it  seems  almost  needless  to  state,  that  he 
lived  in  poverty.  His  small  herd  of  goats  which  gam- 
boled over  the  mountain  during  the  day,  and  which 
he  drove  home  so  carefully  at  nightfall,  afforded  him 
with  almost  half  his  daily  sustenance.  Many  times 
during  the  earlier  years  of  his  ministrations  among 
the  villagers,  he  had  been  offered  money  which  he 
declined  to  accept,  saying  that  his  motives  did  not 
spring  from  the  desire  of  reward.  Knowing  there- 
after, that  it  was  useless  to  make  him  offerings  in 
the  form  of  money,  his  friends  pressed  him  to  ac- 
cept raiment  and  food;  these  also  he  refused  in 
turn,  remarking  smilingly,  that  the  milk  of  his 
faithful  goats,  and  fruit,  furnished  him  with  more 
sustenance  than  he  needed,  and  that  when  a  man 
lived  in  the  Spirit,  the  demands  of  the  body  were 
little,  indeed  he  said  to  them:  "The  care  and 
thought  bestowed  on  the  body  becomes  less  and  less, 


12          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

the  higher  man  ascends  into  the  realm  of  Spirit." 

His  friends  pondered  deeply  over  his  dark  and 
mysterious  declarations.  Environed  as  they  were 
by  a  purely  physical  world,  which  they  regarded  as 
a  place  of  extreme  necessity,  the  fear  of  want  con- 
tinually tortured  them.  On  the  other  hand  they 
also  noticed,  that  a  few  among  their  number  had 
succeeded  by  the  play  of  circumstances,  to  place 
themselves  in  a  safer  position,  and  had  accumulated 
an  amount  of  worldly  wealth  which  guaranteed 
them  against  this  fear  of  want,  which  filled  the  days 
and  nights  of  their  less  fortunate  brothers  with 
such  apprehension  and  dread.  And  yet  these  seem- 
ingly favored  few  were  not  in  reality  contented,  for 
they  feared  the  end  of  life.  And  why  were  they 
fearful?  Had  not  nature  favored  them?  Had  she 
not  given  them  abundance — the  desire  of  their 
hearts? 

A  few  of  the  most  thoughtful  of  the  villagers, 
had  marvelled  much  at  this  strange  phenomenon, 
and  in  their  simplicity  went  to  Herminio  for  an 
explanation.  To  their  question  the  sage  gave  the 
simple  answer:  "That,  no  matter  how  much  a  man 
strives  after  the  things  that  please  the  senses  and 
satisfy  the  cravings  of  the  body,  his  strivings  and 
exertions  will  bring  him  only  grief  and  sorrow,  even 
after  the  objects  he  so  much  desires  have  been 
acquired.  For  as  long  as  they  wished  only  for 
things  in  the  visible  world,  just  so  long  would  they 
be  deluded  and  ensnared  by  them."  While  these 
statements  were  somewhat  vaguely  discerned  by 
those  to  whom  they  were  addressed,  it  was  not  pos- 
sible for  these  simple  men  of  the  mountains,  to 
appreciate  the  ultimate  reality  underlying  them,  as 
they  had  no  conception  of  the  paradoxical  nature  of 
truth. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  13 

For  all  truth  he  told  them  has  two  aspects  or 
two  sides.  The  real  cause  of  human  suffering  he 
declared  was  the  idea  of  separateness,  or  in  other 
words  the  great  delusion  that  each  man  cherished 
in  his  heart,  namely,  that  he  was  better  than  his 
brother.  You  are  not  separate  he  would  say,  you 
are  one,  and  as  each  one  of  you  is  a  ray  from  the 
Divinity,  each  and  every  soul  is  therefore  a  part  of 
the  Infinite  Light— The  Light  of  the  World. 

When  Herminio  reached  this  part  of  his  dis- 
course he  would  bring  his  subject  to  a  close.  It  was 
noticed,  however,  that  when  he  gave  utterance  to 
these  great  truths  his  hearers  were  struck  with 
reverence  and  became  silent.  The  peasants  asked 
no  more  questions  but  quietly  dispersed,  while  Her- 
minio betook  himself  to  his  home  in  the  mountains. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  appearance  of  the  sage 
did  not  change  with  the  years.  It  seemed  a  paradox 
of  nature  that  age  should  be  combined  with  buoy- 
ancy of  youth.  Let  us  follow  the  old  man  who 
walks  in  dignity  along  the  devious  mountain  path 
leading  to  his  abode.  He  carries  no  staff  nor  walk- 
ing stick,  he  is  in  robust  health,  full  of  life  and 
vigor,  and  his  age — eighty-five  years.  Looking 
neither  to  the  right  or  left  but  walking  rapidly  he 
soon  reaches  the  inclosure  of  his  lodge.  Entering 
the  hut,  he  at  once  arranges  a  few  dishes  on  a  small 
table  which  make  up  his  evening  meal.  Nuts,  fruit, 
and  milk  from  his  faithful  goats,  are  the  only  arti- 
cles of  diet,  for  the  sage  never  tastes  flesh  food. 

After  taking  his  refreshment  Herminio  placed 
some  dried  leaves,  twigs  and  faggots  on  the  hearth- 
stone. The  gloom  had  been  deepening  for  some 
moments  as  it  was  now  after  sundown.  As  the  fire 
leaped  upward  Herminio  advanced  toward  it,  and 
crossing  his  arms  over  his  breast  looked  intently 


U          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

into  the  flame.  He  remained  in  this  position  per- 
fectly motionless — appearing  like  the  carven  statue 
of  a  god  rather  than  a  living  man.  Finally  his  lips 
moved  and  with  great  fervor  and  ardor  he  delivered 
himself  as  follows: 

"I  salute  ye,  Oh  invisible  Powers!  Ye  who  have 
enabled  me  to  recover  my  memory  of  the  Past.  I 
salute  ye,  Oh  powerful  Princes  of  Deity,  who  by 
invoking  the  Will  of  the  Supreme  Author  of  the 
Universe,  have  enlightened  my  understanding,  so 
that  my  poor  human  will  has  become  a  sharer  with 
Divinity.  Ye  knew  my  early  struggles  now  mere 
memories  of  the  past.  Ye  knew  my  sufferings  and 
defeats,  my  sorrow  and  despair,  yet  through  your 
watchfulness  was  I  protected,  so  that  every  seeming 
defeat  became  a  victory,  and  every  sorrow  found  its 
end  in  joy.  I  will  not  dwell  on  the  body  of  events  so 
numerous.  But  rather  do  I  enfold  the  essence  of 
these  experiences,  and  thereby  make  my  soul-life 
the  richer.  How  well  memory  records  the  time, 
when  you  opened  to  me  the  gates  of  knowledge  and 
with  the  eye  of  Soul,  I  peered  through  the  infinite 
vistas  leading  to  the  Eternal!  How  often  I  have 
recalled  the  intense  joy  that  I  experienced  on  that 
supreme  occasion!  How  often,  when  lost  in  my 
meditation  to  the  physical  world,  I  have  bathed  in 
the  Divine  Essence,  and  again  felt  the  deep  peace, 
which  descended  on  my  soul  at  the  time  of  that 
great  event,  like  a  benediction  from  the  Archangels! 
How  I  marvelled  upon  that  mysterious  thing  called 
Nature,  of  which  the  material  Universe  is  the  lowest 
form  of  manifestation.  This  ye  made  clear  to  my 
newly  awakened  consciousness,  which  was  then  for 
the  first  time  made  aware  of  its  limitations.  Yea, 
thou  hast  given  me  knowledge,  and  that  knowledge 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  15 

I  have  received  and  transmuted  into  wisdom.  Know- 
ing well  the  great  truth  which  I  became  cognizant 
of  through  my  higher  faculties,  that  he  who  be- 
comes illuminated  loves  to  shed  his  light  on  others. 
I  have  lived  in  the  world  unselfishly,  and  presented 
to  my  brothers  only  parts  of  the  great  truths  heavily 
veiled,  in  parable  and  allegory.  For  however  much 
the  teacher  might  desire  to  impart  to  fellow  beings 
the  knowledge  of  the  great  principles  that  govern 
human  life,  he  is  prevented  from  so  doing,  by  the 
low  states  of  physical  consciousness  in  which  they 
function,  as  the  truths  he  would  elucidate  have  so 
deep  a  meaning  that  they  could  not  be  wholly  com- 
prehended by  younger  souls,  who  are  only  in  the 
initial  stages  of  a  higher  evolution.  So  have  I 
always  appeared  to  my  fellow  men  as  a  hermit  of 
the  mountains;  and  although  I  spend  the  greater 
part  of  my  time  in  solitude  and  seclusion  and  love 
to  meditate  on  the  majesty  of  the  truth,  yet  hu- 
manity is  dear  to  me  for  above  all,  what  is  greater 
than  the  soul  linked  to  the  One!" 

As  Herminio  finished  this  sentence,  the  fire 
burned  low  on  the  hearthstone,  so  that  the  interior 
of  the  hermitage  was  almost  in  complete  darkness. 
For  a  few  moments  the  silence  was  broken  only  by 
the  low  moaning  of  the  night  wind,  and  the  occa- 
sional bleating  of  the  sheep  in  the  inclosure.  Then 
on  a  sudden  the  fire  burned  brighter,  and  lit  up  the 
features  of  the  seer,  who  looking  again  into  the 
heart  of  the  flame  resumed  in  a  low  tone  his  solilo- 
quy- 

"Yea,  it  is  true  I  love  humanity,  and  have  longed 
for  a  pupil.  Strange  is  it  not,  that  the  paradoxical 
nature  of  truth  and  phenomena  is  the  same  on  all 
planes  of  nature.  In  the  physical  world  the  normal 
man  and  woman  desire  children,  so  that  they  might 
express  through  them  their  love  and  emotions,  and 


16          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

that  they  might  realize  again  the  experiences  of 
their  own  childhood  in  the  lives  of  their  offspring. 
So  have  I,  in  my  solitude  and  old  age  longed  for  a 
son — one  in  whom  I  might  behold  the  thirst  for 
knowledge — the  knowledge  that  reaches  to  the 
Waters  of  Life." 

"And  with  what  joy  will  I  receive  him!  As  the 
young  mother  welcomes  her  first  born  and  bestows 
upon  it  her  tender  love  and  emotion,  so  do  I  look 
forward  to  the  time  when  I  am  to  take  my  son 
under  my  tutelage  and  note  his  early  struggles. 
How  the  world  will  bruise  and  scar  him!  In  his 
seeming  defeats  he  will  come  to  me,  his  father  and 
counsellor,  for  advice  and  sympathy.  Ah,  what 
visions  of  the  future  radiant  with  hope,  will  I  not 
be  able  to  reveal  to  him!  With  what  care  will  I  de- 
scribe the  conditions  under  which  he  is  to  live  in 
the  world,  so  that  the  higher  forces  of  the  universe 
will  be  enabled  to  play  through  his  consciousness. 
And  as  the  earthly  mother  regards  with  keen  de- 
light the  first  attempts  of  her  child  when  it  learns 
to  walk  and  watches  it  lest  it  may  fall,  so  likewise 
will  I  guard  the  efforts  of  my  son  when  he  takes 
his  first  steps  in  the  world  of  Spirit." 

As  our  old  man  uttered  these  words  his  features 
glowed  with  ecstasy.  It  could  not  be  the  light  from 
the  hearthstone  that  illuminated  his  visage,  for  the 
fire  was  again  burning  low — so  low  indeed  that  only 
his  profile  was  rendered  visible  against  the  growing 
background  of  the  darkness.  He  made  no  attempt 
to  change  his  position  but  steadily  maintaining  the 
same  posture,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  dying 
embers  of  the  fire  continued  in  a  low  distinct  tone. 

"And  at  last  I  am  to  know  the  Blessing  of  Com- 
panionship, with  one  who  will  understand  the  hid- 
den law.  What  a  blessing  then,  have  my  elder 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  n 

brothers  reserved  for  me,  in  the  closing  years  of 
my  present  life,  in  presenting  me  a  pupil  and  son. 
Unlike  a  physical  father,  however,  will  I  appeal  to 
him.  There  will  be  that  intangible  something,  that 
will  bind  him  to  me  in  so  close  a  union  that  he  will 
often  marvel  at  the  strange  phenomenon,  for  it  will 
be  a  kinship  more  exalted  than  even  that  relation 
which  is  formed  by  the  ties  of  blood.  He  will  come 
to  me  in  the  prime  of  young  manhood,  exulting  in 
his  strength  and  seeming  virtues  and  wholly  uncon- 
scious of  the  tortures  that  await  him  in  the  world 
of  matter.  And  it  will  be  my  great  privilege  and 
duty  to  guide  him  on  at  first  into  the  environments 
suitable  for  his  further  development.  Even  now 
through  the  higher  vision  I  observe  him  clearly.  A 
young  man  of  twenty-four  years,  diligent  in  his 
business,  a  student  of  the  arts  and  sciences  and  a 
lover  of  nature.  He,  it  is,  whom  the  gods  have 
chosen  to  be  my  pupil.  And  great  though  be  the 
responsibility  yet  cheerfully  do  I  welcome  it.  From 
a  lover  of  nature,  my  son  and  pupil  will  become  a 
lover  of  knowledge,  and  I  will  be  his  director  on  the 
perilous  way.  Though  steep  the  path  and  weari- 
some the  journey,  bravely  and  courageously  will  he 
press  ever  on.  Knowing  no  fear,  anticipating  no 
defeat,  he  will  go  forward  to  his  great  ideal.  In  so 
close  a  union  will  we  be  at  this  stage  of  his  progress, 
that  I  will  be  able  to  impress  my  thought  on  him  at 
a  distance,  for  he  will  then  have  become  a  part  of 
my  consciousness/' 

"And  now,  ye  Invisible  Powers,  farewell  for  a 
time,  for  the  night  approaches,  and  I  would  sleep. 
In  the  hours  of  silence  that  intervene  from  now 
till  the  dawn,  guard  well  my  son  and  close  his  eye- 
lids in  peaceful  slumber.  Accord  him  no  visions  nor 


18          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

even  dreams,  but  let  him  rest  peacefully  till  the 
morning." 

As  Herminio  finished  this  last  sentence,  a  light 
in  the  form  of  a  golden  colored  star,  appeared  near 
the  ceiling  directly  above  him.  Lifting  his  eyes  and 
extending  his  clasped  hands  toward  it,  he  regarded 
it  for  some  moments  in  silence  and  then  exclaimed: 
"Hail,  star  of  Initiation  whose  friendly  beams  still 
shine  upon  me.  How  I  welcome  thy  golden  light  I 
know  so  well!  From  the  time  of  my  youth,  and  up 
to  the  years  leading  to  old  age,  thou  hast  been  my 
constant  watcher,  never  deserting  me.  In  the  earlier 
stages  of  my  progress  in  the  Spiritual  Life  when 
the  path  became  so  difficult,  that  further  advance- 
ment seemed  impossible,  when  doubt  weakened  the 
powers  of  the  soul  and  the  tempter  through  the 
allurements  of  the  senses,  sought  to  again  ensnare 
me  in  the  physical  world,  then  would'st  thou  appear 
to  remind  me  of  my  duty  and  destiny.  Thy  golden 
beams  were  always  a  promise  of  hope  nearing 
fruition.  And  now  on  the  eve  of  this  great  joy — 
the  coming  of  my  son — again  thy  bright  rays  de- 
scend upon  me.  Again  I  feel  the  Divine  influx 
which  always  accompanies  thy  manifestation.  And 
as  thou  hast  by  thy  golden  beams  brought  hope  and 
comfort  to  me  in  hours  of  sorrow,  so  likewise  wilt 
thou  be  the  herald  and  promise  of  victory  to  him 
who  is  to  become  my  son." 

With  these  words  the  hermit  lowered  his  clasped 
hands  and  bowed  his  head  upon  his  breast.  He 
could  say  no  more.  For  whenever  the  Soul  is  lifted 
to  the  higher  regions  of  pure  spirit,  its  life  and 
experiences  take  on  a  vividness  no  human  language 
can  portray.  So  Herminio  was  silent.  The  myster- 
ious star  which  had  shone  so  brightly  above  him, 
began  to  pale  in  luster  and  finally  disappeared.  The 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  19 

occasional  bleating  of  the  sheep  in  the  inclosure  on 
the  east  side  of  the  hermitage  had  now  ceased 
altogether  and  as  the  silence  deepened  a  complete 
darkness  fell  upon  the  humble  home  of  the  seer. 


CHAPTER  II. 
The  Character  Of  Anthony. 

By  solemn  vision  and  bright  silver  dream 
His  infancy  was  nurtured.     Every  sight 
And  sound  from  the  vast  earth  and  ambient  air 
Sent  to  his  heart  its  choicest  impulses. 

—The  Spirit  of  Solitude. 

In  his  shop  in  Ali,  Sicily,  Alonzo  Diodatti  was 
busy  at  his  work  bench  repairing  shoes.  Although 
it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  and  he  had  denied  him- 
self his  dinner,  so  absorbed  had  he  been  in  his  work, 
he  still  kept  steadily  at  his  task.  Three  times 
shortly  after  the  noon  hour,  had  his  good  wife  en- 
tered his  shop  from  the  rooms  in  the  rear  where 
they  lived,  and  urged  him  to  take  his  mid-day  meal. 
But  to  all  her  entreaties  he  turned  a  deaf  ear.  When 
finally  she  came  into  the  shop  for  the  fourth  time, 
Alonzo  looked  up  from  his  work  and  replied : 

"Woman,  do  you  not  remember  that  tomorrow 
is  the  Feast  of  the  Assumption,  and  that  all  work 
must  be  finished  and  out  of  the  shop  before  night? 
Antonio,  my  helper,  failed  to  come  today  on  account 
of  the  sickness  of  his  child,  and  I  am  therefore 
obliged  to  do  the  work  of  two  men.  I  will  not  take 
my  meal  until  my  task  is  finished,  which  will  be 
about  sundown." 

Alonzo  and  his  wife  were  natives  of  Sicily  and 
had  been  married  twenty  years.  According  to 
Sicilian  standards  Alonzo  was  a  comparatively 
wealthy  man,  having  inherited  lands  near  the  city 


22          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

which  he  had  cultivated  into  lemon  groves.  His 
orchards  were  famous  for  the  superior  quality  of 
lemons  they  produced,  and  his  income  from  this 
source  alone  was  sufficient  to  have  allowed  him  to 
live  as  a  gentleman  of  leisure.  His  good  wife  could 
not  dissuade  him  from  laboring  long  hours  every 
day,  and  it  was  only  on  Sundays  and  days  of  Obliga- 
tion that  he  rested  from  his  labors. 

There  were  only  three  persons  in  the  Diodatti 
family,  Alonzo,  Anastasia  his  wife,  and  a  foster  son, 
Anthony  Colombo.  The  boy  Anthony  was  in  his 
eleventh  year,  and  displayed  such  a  love  for  learn- 
ing that  he  had  become  a  close  friend  of  Father 
Clementi,  the  village  priest.  Under  the  direction  of 
his  reverend  tutor,  he  commenced  to  study  the  rudi- 
ments of  Greek.  He  displayed  such  a  disposition 
for  knowledge  that  the  priest  advised  his  foster 
parents  to  send  him  in  a  few  years  to  the  University 
of  Messina,  where  he  would  have  every  advantage 
to  acquire  a  classical  education. 

Alonzo  dearly  loved  his  foster  son,  and  he  re- 
membered distinctly  how  his  heart  swelled  with 
pride  when  on  a  certain  occasion  Father  Clementi 
had  told  him  Anthony  was  a  genius,  and  he  recalled 
with  what  keen  delight  he  had  listened  to  the  boy 
when  he  read  aloud  stories  from  the  Iliad. 

With  these  thoughts  in  mind,  he  paused  a  mo- 
ment from  his  work  and  asked  his  wife  where 
Anthony  had  gone  that  afternoon. 

Before  Anastasia  could  answer  a  young  boy  en- 
tered the  room.  He  was  lithe  of  figure  and  his 
features  finely  formed.  In  his  right  hand  he  carried 
a  small  volume  which  he  proudly  held  out  toward 
his  mother  as  he  approached. 

"And  what  have  you  today  from  Father  Cle- 
menti?" asked  Anastasia,  as  she  lovingly  stroked 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  23 

with  her  right  hand,  the  curly  black  locks  of  her 
little  foster  son. 

"It  is  a  book  of  verses.  Father  dementi  told 
me  to  study  them  well,  so  I  would  be  able  to  recite 
them  from  memory.  He  was  much  pleased  with  the 
verses  I  read  today,  yet  he  says  he  much  rather 
prefers  to  hear  me  recite  than  read. 

"And  what  about  your  Greek  lesson?" 

"We  did  not  study  it  today.  I  had  some  verses 
with  me  that  I  had  written  myself,  and  when  I 
showed  them  to  him  he  smiled  and  was  so  pleased 
that  he  talked  of  nothing  else  during  the  whole  hour. 
He  seemed  to  forget  my  Greek  lesson  and  talked 
only  of  the  verses." 

While  the  boy  went  on  with  the  story  of  his 
afternoon's  experience  with  the  priest,  and  again 
referred  to  his  poetical  effusions,  his  dark  eyes 
beamed  and  in  the  animation  of  his  recital,  he  gave 
free  play  to  his  child-like  enthusiasm. 

"Mother,"  he  continued,  "will  it  not  be  a  great 
day  for  me  when  I  go  to  the  University  of  Messina 
to  become  a  learned  man?  Father  dementi  says 
I  should  go  in  my  sixteenth  year.  I  have  to  wait 
then  five  years.  How  long  the  time  will  seem!" 

"The  time  will  pass  quickly  enough  for  your 
parents,"  said  Alonzo,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 
"But  you  shall  go  for  we  have  promised  it.  Your 
father  is  willing  and  glad  to  be  able  to  give  you 
advantages  that  he  never  enjoyed,  but  the  day 
grows  late.  It  is  time  I  closed  the  shop,  for  the 
work  of  the  day  is  over. 

How  happy  were  the  parents  before  the  bright 
future  that  held  so  much  promise  for  their  little 
son,  and  what  joy  could  equal  the  gladness  of  their 
hearts . 


24          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Under  the  continued  tutelage  of  Father  dementi, 
and  the  good  Anastasia,  the  boy  grew  in  grace  and 
knowledge  and  reached  his  sixteenth  year.  At  last 
the  time  had  come  when  the  call  for  knowledge 
must  be  implicitly  obeyed.  With  what  expectancy 
did  our  Anthony  view  the  preparations  that  were 
being  made  as  the  time  drew  near — a  time  of  magic, 
in  which  he  conjured  up  visions  of  his  happy  future. 

When  at  last  the  final  farewells  were  said  and 
Anthony  started  on  his  journey,  he  felt  that  keen 
regret  the  young  always  experience  on  leaving 
home  for  the  first  time.  He  was  leaving  the  little 
Tillage  where  all  the  associations  of  his  life  had 
thus  far  been  staged.  His  boyhood  friends,  his  fos- 
ter parents,  the  good  Father  Clementi  his  private 
instructor,  all  these  were  for  a  time  to  be  given  up 
for  new  environments  and  affiliations,  where  amid 
greater  facilities  he  might  acquire  from  books  and 
salaried  professors,  that  mysterious  thing  called 
knowledge. 

So  in  spite  of  his  well  made  resolutions  it  was 
with  a  feeling  of  regret  and  timidity  that  he 
reached  Messina. 

A  few  days  afterward,  the  examinations  being 
held  he  was  placed  in  the  classes  to  which  his  status 
entitled  him.  He  created  little  comment  among  the 
older  students,  but  the  fact  was  mentioned  that  his 
foster  parents  being  wealthy,  he  would  not  lack  for 
funds  to  pursue  any  special  work  or  study,  after  the 
completion  of  his  university  career. 

After  a  few  months  Anthony  had  begun  to  settle 
down  to  the  routine  of  college  life.  It  is  here  that 
we  begin  an  estimate  of  his  character.  He  was 
meditative  and  very  reserved  in  manner.  The 
amusements  in  which  his  fellow  students  indulged 
did  not  appeal  to  him.  For  if  sincerity  is  conceded 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  25 

to  be  the  mark  of  a  truly  great  man,  then  Anthony 
surely  possessed  it,  for  he  was  sincere  to  an  extreme 
degree.  He  loved  solitude  more  than  society — soli- 
tude and  meditation,  these  two  marks  of  a  great 
soul,  showed  plainly  in  his  character.  These  he 
could  not  conceal.  On  Saturday  and  Sunday  after- 
noons he  would  walk  about  the  city  and  environs, 
admiring  greatly  its  works  of  art  and  its  historical 
associations.  He  would  spend  hours  in  the  Great 
Square  before  the  Fountain  of  Neptune,  marveling 
at  the  sculptures  over  which  the  crystal  waters  fell 
in  beaded  cascades.  The  Italian  marbles  made  a 
special  appeal  to  him.  As  he  gazed  on  their  beau- 
ties he  invested  them  with  life.  They  were  no 
longer  inanimate  images  cut  from  the  Carrara  quar- 
ries, but  had  become  during  his  long  reverie,  living 
beings,  glowing  with  life  and  color — disporting 
themselves  behind  the  rainbow  colored  water  drops 
that  showered  at  their  feet,  in  the  mellow  sunlight 
of  a  Sicilian  afternoon. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  gift  of  investing  inani- 
mate objects  with  life,  is  a  faculty  possessed  only 
by  the  poet's  soul.  If  this  be  true  then  Anthony 
was  a  poet,  for  he  beheld  in  all  nature  images  of 
beauty  and  life.  Not  only  did  he  worship  beauty 
in  nature  and  art  for  the  satisfaction  it  gave  to  his 
aesthetic  faculties,  but  he  showed  nature  a  deep 
reverence  because  he  considered  her  a  manifestation 
of  the  Divine  Mind.  "If,"  as  he  often  said,  "we 
love  God,  then  surely  we  must  love  that  which  God 
has  created.  If  he  has  implanted  in  our  souls  a 
love  for  the  Beautiful,  He  has  likewise  filled  the 
world  and  the  universe  with  objects  of  sense  to 
gratify  that  desire.  Now  the  soul  can  have  no 
higher  object  than  the  appreciation  of  God  through 
His  works;  for  by  the  love  of  nature  we  are  drawn 


26          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

insensibly  by  degrees  to  contemplate  on  the  Creator. 
For  if  nature  be  the  epitome  of  beauty,  then  God 
its  Author  must  be  beauty  itself,  surpassing  by  far 
that  beauty  of  physical  nature,  which  is  only  one 
form  of  His  many  manifestations." 

Such  were  the  sentiments  expressed  by  our 
young  student  in  his  seventeenth  year.  Surely  his 
was  a  soul  consecrated  to  the  higher  things  of  life 
— a  soul  that  will  care  nothing  for  the  vanities  of 
the  world,  but  will  be  able  to  rise  above  it  and  its 
conventions. 

From  the  Fountain  of  Neptune,  Anthony  on 
many  occasions  wended  his  way  to  the  Cathedral. 
Here  he  spent  many  happy  hours  viewing  the  pic- 
tures of  the  Saints  and  Prophets  of  Old.  The  pulpit 
of  white  marble,  sculptured  in  the  form  of  a  chalice, 
made  a  special  appeal  to  him — its  composition  mar- 
ble— its  shape  a  chalice — its  color  white  as  the 
driven  snow!  Surely  the  sculptor  must  have  been 
inspired  when  he  carved  from  his  marble  block  this 
snow  white  chalice,  to  place  it  amid  such  sacred 
surroundings. 

In  the  university  and  in  the  city  of  Messina  our 
young  Sicilian  had  found  his  natural  environment. 
The  student  life  was  for  him  a  continual  joy.  To 
spend  hours  with  learned  doctors  over  philosophical 
disquisitions,  to  reason  on  the  higher  questions  of 
life  and  the  nature  of  the  soul — to  have  free  access 
to  the  great  library,  where  like  the  English  poet 
Robert  Southey,  he  passed  day  after  day  convers- 
ing with  the  dead — they  who  had  passed  on  ages 
before,  but  who  have  left  us  their  immortal  legacies 
in  the  printed  pages  of  books!  What  a  privilege  to 
be  present  in  so  august  a  company!  To  pray  with 
Saint  Augustine  and  Saint  Thomas!  To  converse 
with  Newton  on  his  Principia!  To  look  through  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  27 

telescope  of  Galileo  and  Herschel!  To  hear  the  soul 
stirring  melodies  of  Mozart  and  Beethoven!  To 
imbibe  the  deep  philosophy  of  Aristotle  and  Plato! 
To  read  the  immortal  poetry  of  Dante,  Milton  and 
Shakespeare!  To  what  heights  ought  he  not  to 
climb  when  so  great  a  help  and  opportunity  was 
afforded  him. 

So  the  time  passed  happily  and  Anthony  grew 
in  virtue  and  knowledge.  So  contented  and  happy 
had  he  become  that  he  seemed  to  live  and  move  in 
paradise.  Oh  time  of  youth,  thou  art  indeed  a  time 
of  vision!  But  in  the  case  of  our  student,  the 
vision  had  already  reached  fulfillment.  He  was 
happy  in  the  present.  There  was  nothing  to  cause 
him  anxiety.  At  the  close  of  his  University  career 
he  would  retire  with  honors  proudly  won,  and 
achieve  distinction  in  some  scientific  or  philosophical 
field.  What  was  to  prevent  him  from  doing  as  he 
wished?  Was  he  not  the  sole  heir  of  Alonzo — the 
wealthiest  man  in  Ali?  And  was  not  wealth  and 
learning  a  combination  of  forces  before  which  the 
material  world  must  give  way? 

Anthony  had  now  been  three  years  at  the 
University.  In  following  his  ideals  amid  such  con- 
genial surroundings  the  time  passed  all  too  rapidly. 
As  he  grew  in  knowledge,  his  habits  became  fixed 
and  his  character  more  pronounced.  He  was  much 
given  to  meditation  and  frequently  rose  hours  be- 
fore daybreak  to  indulge  in  the  practice.  In  the 
deep  silence  of  summer  mornings,  he  would  sit  in 
the  open  window  and  there  alone  meditate  on  the 
mystery  of  Being.  The  earth  and  its  fullness  lay 
at  his  feet,  while  above  him  the  heavens  glowed 
with  galaxies  of  stars.  Instinctively  his  gaze  was 
directed  toward  them.  The  familiar  constellations 
seemed  to  greet  him  as  of  Old.  He  never  tired 


28  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

looking  at  them.  In  his  boyhood  days  in  Ali  the  good 
Father  Clementi,  with  the  aid  of  star  maps  had 
taught  him  the  names  and  positions  of  the  star 
groups,  and  also  the  mythology  connected  with 
them.  The  friendly  stars  were  his  mute  compan- 
ions. How  many  hours  on  summer  nights  when  he 
lived  in  the  little  village  of  Ali,  he  had  gazed  in 
wonder  on  the  celestial  beauties  scattered  in  streams 
and  clusters  through  the  profundities  of  space! 
With  what  awe  and  veneration  did  he  not  behold 
the  great  Cross  in  Cygnus,  which  lay  on  its  beam 
in  such  calm  repose  behind  the  star  drifts  in  the 
Milky  Way!  How  often  he  had  followed  with  medi- 
tative eye  that  luminous  zone  of  light,  which  span- 
ning the  heavens  was  lost  to  his  vision  near  the 
southern  horizon,  where  it  broke  through  Sagit- 
tarius, to  shine  with  renewed  splendor  in  the  south- 
ern hemisphere. 

And  thus  we  find  him  in  the  early  morning 
hours  watching  the  heavens.  The  habit  formed  in 
boyhood  days  at  Ali,  is  followed  by  the  young  man 
at  Messina.  Wrapped  in  meditation  near  the  open 
window,  he  gives  himself  up  for  the  time,  to  the 
Great  Author  of  the  worlds,  and  muses  on  the 
mysteries  of  Creation. 

In  the  delineation  of  the  character  of  Anthony 
enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  he  possessed  a 
philosophic  bent  of  mind.  Combined  with  this  he 
had  a  poet's  imagination  and  adored  beauty  in 
nature  and  art.  In  his  profound  reveries  he  some- 
times lost  sight  of  the  objects  around  him,  though 
retaining  them  vividly  in  his  mind's  eye.  This 
peculiar  faculty  has  been  very  well  illustrated  by 
an  English  poet,  who  in  depicting  the  deeper  stages 
of  meditation,  pictures  a  young  woman  with  a 
pitcher  in  her  hand  standing  near  a  hillside  spring. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  29 

Thinking  of  her  lover,  she  places  the  pitcher  beneath 
the  falling  water,  intending  to  watch  it  lest  it 
overflow.  But  so  unconsciously  and  so  quickly  does 
her  mind  glide  into  that  deeper  stage  of  meditation, 
that  she  no  longer  cognizes  the  object  before  her, 
and  though  her  gaze  is  still  fastened  directly  on  the 
pitcher  she 

"Sees  it  and  not  sees  it  and  lets  it  overflow." 
This  was  the  position  in  which  Anthony  some- 
times found  himself.  In  this  particular  instance  as 
he  sat  on  the  promontory  overlooking  the  sea,  it 
had  vanished  from  his  gaze;  yet  as  a  mental  image 
it  was  constantly  before  him.  Then  he  again 
thought  of  it  as  an  emblem  of  the  Creator,  to  whose 
bosom  all  water  drops  must  finally  return.  Even 
as  the  myriads  of  souls  sent  forth  from  the  Author 
of  the  worlds,  must  in  the  fullness  of  time  return 
also  to  Him.  Then  as  he  became  receptive  to  the 
great  truth  and  absorbed  it  into  his  consciousness 
he  felt  a  strong  vibration  which  starting  at  the  base 
of  the  brain  extended  along  the  spinal  cord;  then 
branching  from  both  sides  of  the  spine  completely 
encircled  his  body,  spending  its  force  in  the  region 
of  the  heart,  the  navel  and  lastly  in  the  abdomen. 
Anthony  felt  the  vibration  so  keenly  that  he  rose 
from  his  seat,  marveling  much  at  the  strange  phe- 
nomenon. As  he  walked  toward  the  city  he  recalled 
the  fact  that  this  experience  had  on  another  occa- 
sion occurred  to  him.  He  had  been  meditating  on 
Good  and  Evil  and  the  difference  that  must  exist 
between  them.  For  a  long  time  he  had  been  per- 
fectly motionless,  respiration  having  almost  ceased, 
all  the  senses  being  apparently  suspended.  Then 
suddenly  the  great  Truth  flashed  on  his  conscious- 
ness that  Good.,  was  absolute  and  eternal,  while 
Evil  was  relative  and  transitory.  Then  he  remem- 
bered clearly  that  on  the  reception  of  this  truth,  a 


30  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

vibration  similar  to  the  one  he  had  just  experienced 
took  hold  on  him,  starting1  as  in  this  instance  at  the 
base  of  the  brain  and  extending  along  the  spine. 
Were  these  vibrations  a  proof  of  the  accurateness 
of  the  intuitions  he  had  received?  As  he  asked 
this  question  another  vibration  stronger  than  either 
of  the  preceding  ones  shook  his  entire  body  causing 
three  or  four  distinct  tremors.  He  paused  in  his 
walk  and  leaning  on  the  trunk  of  a  tree  tried  to 
calm  himself.  It  was  now  sundown  and  the  long 
shadows  cast  by  the  hills  and  mountains  heralded 
the  approach  of  night,  which  comes  quickly  in  these 
latitudes.  The  calm  still  aspect  of  a  Sicilian  evening 
enveloped  the  landscape.  But  of  all  this  beauty  the 
young  man  was  unconscious.  His  thoughts  were 
wholly  taken  up  by  the  phenomena  he  had  exper- 
ienced. As  he  wended  his  way  toward  the  city  he 
resolved  to  ask  the  prefect  of  studies  at  the  uni- 
versity, for  some  work  on  meditation — some  author- 
ity that  might  throw  light  on  the  phenomena  and 
clear  up  the  questions  that  so  perplexed  him. 

The  following  day  he  asked  the  prefect  if  the 
library  contained  such  a  work,  but  he  was  careful 
to  keep  his  experience  to  himself  holding  it  as 
sacred  in  his  own  consciousness. 

The  prefect  referred  him  to  a  work  by  Saint 
Teresa  of  Spain,  entitled  "The  Interior  Castle,"  in 
which  she  describes  the  soul  under  the  figure  of  a 
castle,  surrounded  by  seven  mansions.  These  man- 
sions are  the  different  stages  of  Being  through 
which  the  mind  passes  on  its  way  to  the  castle. 
Here  a  very  marked  distinction  is  made  between 
mind  and  soul.  At  the  beginning  of  the  meditative 
process,  thought  functioning  through  the  mind, 
whose  organ  is  the  brain  is  constantly  raised  to 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  31 

higher  states  of  consciousness  as  it  passes  through 
the  mansions.  At  first,  the  members  of  the  body 
became  perfectly  motionless,  and  all  the  avenues  of 
the  senses  are  closed,  the  mind  experiencing  a  state 
called  ecstasy.  When  finally  the  seventh  mansion 
is  reached,  the  thought  becomes  so  vivid  that  the 
mind  cannot  contain  it  and  it  begins  to  function 
through  the  soul.  The  consciousness  having  passed 
through  the  seven  mansions  is  now  in  possession  of 
the  castle.  The  human  entity  has  had  his  thought 
raised  to  such  a  level  on  his  journey  through  the 
mansions  that  he  has  abandoned  the  mind  and  func- 
tions through  the  soul. 

While  Anthony  appreciated  this  explanation  it 
was  not  entirely  satisfactory  to  him.  On  the  sub- 
ject of  the  vibrations,  Saint  Teresa  was  silent.  Was 
it  possible  that  so  great  an  authority  could  not 
enlighten  him,  and  must  he  turn  to  other  writers 
for  light  on  this  subject? 

Thus  we  find  our  student  in  his  nineteenth  year 
experiencing  phenomena  which  appeared  to  tran- 
scend human  analogy.  It  is  not  strange  that  he 
resolved  to  keep  his  experiences  a  profound  secret. 
If,  he  reasoned  they  have  a  meaning,  some  other 
soul  at  some  other  time,  has  experienced  the  same 
phenomena  for  every  individual  must  have  a  proto- 
type somewhere  in  the  world  who  vibrates  in  unison 
with  him.  If  this  be  so  I  will  bide  my  time  trusting 
that  the  day  will  come  when  I  will  meet  someone 
who  will  clear  up  the  mystery  and  make  it  plain  to 
me. 


CHAPTER  III. 
Regina  the  Flower  Girl. 

Oh!  tell  me  where  and  in  what  lands 
Is  Flora  and  the  Roman  lass? 
Where's  Thais  or  the  Ladye  grande 
That  was  her  equal  in  all  grace? 

—"Ballad  of  Vanished  Ladies." 

Six  years  had  now  been  spent  in  the  university, 
Anthony  having  reached  his  twenty-second  year — 
six  years  of  study  and  of  preparation  for  that  larger 
field  called  the  world,  into  which  he  was  now  to 
enter.  Into  what  sphere  of  activity  he  would  en- 
gage, he  had  as  yet  not  decided.  Two  courses  were 
open  to  him.  He  might  take  up  mathematics  or 
become  a  teacher  of  Italian  literature.  The  latter 
course  appealed  most  to  him.  He  loved  Tasso,  Dante 
and  Boccaccio.  Into  this  field  he  sometimes  thought 
he  would  direct  all  his  energies  and  even  though  he 
should  fail  to  attain  any  great  distinction  as  a 
teacher,  he  would  at  least  be  following  a  vocation 
the  pursuit  of  which  would  give  him  satisfaction 
and  pleasure.  With  this  idea  in  mind  he  began 
preparing  himself  for  the  final  examinations. 

So  absorbed  had  he  become  in  the  final  prepar- 
ation, that  for  almost  a  month  he  had  failed  to  take 
his  customary  walk  around  the  city  and  its  en- 
virons. On  a  bright  afternoon  at  the  close  of  May 
he  could  restrain  himself  no  longer,  and  going  forth 
into  the  sunlight  he  followed  his  old  familiar  route 


34  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

that  led  past  the  Fountain  of  Neptune.  A  little  to 
the  right  of  the  Fountain  and  not  more  than  fifty 
paces  from  it  he  was  surprised  to  see  a  young  girl 
dressed  in  ancient  Roman  costume,  selling  flowers 
at  a  small  booth  which  had  been  erected  in  the 
square.  Somewhat  curious  to  know  how  she  had 
been  able  to  secure  a  concession  in  the  Great  Square 
so  near  the  Fountain,  Anthony  approached  the 
booth  and  purchased  a  small  bouquet.  Struck  by 
the  beauty  of  the  girl  and  the  grace  of  her  move- 
ments, he  inquired  as  to  the  length  of  time  she  had 
been  in  the  city. 

"Only  a  short  while,"  she  replied  fixing  her  dark 
lustrous  eyes  on  him.  "It  is  not  more  than  two 
weeks  since  I  came  here." 

"I  am  Anthony  Colombo,  a  student  of  the  Uni- 
versity. I  have  resided  here  six  years." 

"How  grand  that  must  be,"  said  the  girl.  "I 
have  never  had  such  an  opportunity  for  study.  My 
name  is  Regina  Cenci.  I  lived  in  Taormina." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Anthony,  "that  was  my 
mother's  home.  I  was  never  in  the  place,  but  it  has 
been  described  very  minutely  to  me.  I  am  glad  to 
know  you  have  lived  there,  and  hope  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  you  again." 

At  this  point  Anthony  was  interrupted  from 
further  conversation  as  several  persons  approached 
the  booth  to  make  purchases.  Bidding  the  girl 
good  day  he  continued  his  walk  along  the  thorough- 
fare, thinking  ail  the  while  of  the  strange  impres- 
sion she  had  made  on  him.  Surely  he  thought,  she 
is  a  child  of  nature,  simple  and  direct  in  her  ways 
and  habits  of  life.  Dressed  in  the  costume  of  a 
flower  girl  of  Old  Rome,  there  was  no  doubt  she 
would  attract  many  persons  to  her  booth  in  the 
famous  Square  of  Neptune.  But  how  came  she  to 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  So 

adopt  such  a  costume?  She  herself  certainly  did 
not  conceive  such  an  idea.  Some  person  of  influence 
must  have  secured  the  concession  from  the  city 
allowing  her  to  sell  flowers  in  the  Square.  These 
questions  perplexed  Anthony  and  he  resolved  to  find 
out  more  about  the  girl.  Unconsciously  he  repeated 
her  name,  Regina  Cenci!  Regina  Cenci! — the  words 
were  euphonious  and  musical  and  carried  a  cadence 
to  his  innermost  being.  When  finally  he  reached  his 
favorite  trysting  place  and  reclined  on  the  promon- 
otory  overlooking  the  sea,  he  found  himself  unable 
to  follow  his  accustomed  line  of  thought.  He  who 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  meditating  on  the  creative 
processes,  and  the  deeper  questions  of  science  and 
philosophy,  now  found  all  the  powers  and  faculties 
of  his  mind  concentrated  on  a  Sicilian  flower  girl. 
He  could  not  account  for  the  way  in  which  she  had 
captivated  and  enthralled  him.  He  tried  in  vain  to 
revert  to  his  former  line  of  thought  but  that,  he 
was  unable  to  do  for  any  length  of  time.  His  re- 
flections were  continually  interrupted.  He  found 
himself  looking  on  the  sea,  yet  mentally  he  was 
beside  the  flower  booth,  inhaling  the  perfume  of  the 
roses  and  admiring  the  loveliness  of  the  young 
woman  who  offered  them  for  sale.  The  unexpected 
meeting  amid  such  surroundings,  seemed  like  a  bit 
of  romance  from  Boccacio.  The  setting  was  ideal. 
A  beautiful  flower  girl  of  Ancient  Rome,  offers  roses 
and  lilies  for  sale  in  the  historic  Square,  near  the 
Fountain  of  Neptune.  The  grace  of  her  carriage, 
the  suppleness  of  her  movements,  and  the  simplicity 
of  her  manners,  would  lead  one  to  believe  he  was 
gazing  on  the  goddess  Flora  herself.  So  thought 
Anthony.  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  he 
had  admired  a  woman  and  around  the  object  of  his 
passion  he  clothed  everything  with  a  beauty  that 


36          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

was  perfect  and  ideal.  It  is  ever  thus  with  a  sincere 
lover.  He  loves  because  of  a  law  that  impells  him 
to  love,  and  acting  in  harmony  with  the  law,  sees 
only  beauty  and  perfection  in  the  object  of  his  de- 
sire, and  at  a  later  stage  he  beholds  naught  but 
beauty  and  harmony  in  the  whole  visible  creation. 

It  was  near  sundown  when  Anthony  returned  to 
his  room  in  the  University.  Never  in  all  his  life 
had  he  spent  such  an  afternoon.  He  could  not  con- 
trol his  thoughts.  They  rested  on  the  Roman  flower 
girl  and  there  remained.  Was  our  student  with  the 
philosophic  mind  about  to  fall  to  the  level  of  ordi- 
nary humanity,  and  experience  the  universal  pas- 
sion? Was  this  love  of  which  the  poets  had  sung, 
so  great  a  thing  that  he  too  must  be  included  within 
it?  Was  the  Divine  fire  of  such  a  nature  that  he 
who  came  within  the  circle  of  its  light  and  influence 
drawn  insensibly  toward  it,  like  the  moth  to  the 
flame? 

Next  day  when  Anthony  started  on  his  accus- 
tomed walk  he  had  one  object  only  in  view,  and  that 
was  to  meet  Regina.  When  he  reached  the  flower 
booth  he  found  her  busily  engaged  in  fastening  a 
bunch  of  violets  in  the  corsage  of  a  lady  with  whom 
she  was  in  earnest  conversation.  She  did  not  see 
Anthony  approach  and  was  unaware  of  his  presence 
until  he  came  directly  in  front  of  the  booth.  At 
sight  of  him  she  appeared  somewhat  abashed  and 
confused,  asking  him  in  an  embarrasing  tone  if  he 
wished  any  flowers?  Anthony  called  for  roses  and 
opened  the  conversation  by  asking  Regina  how  she 
liked  the  city. 

"I  cannot  say  I  like  it  so  well,"  she  replied  rather 
shyly.  "It  is  the  first  time  I  am  away  from  home, 
and  it  seems  difficult  to  make  acquaintances  here." 

"While  that  is  true,  remember  you  have  been 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  37 

here  but  a  short  time.  A  few  weeks  more  and  you 
will  grow  to  appreciate  the  city  and  become  more 
familiar  with  the  people  and  their  ways." 

"Probably  so,"  said  the  girl.  "But  I  cannot  for- 
get my  home  in  the  country.  I  was  so  happy  there." 

"Are  your  parents  living?" 

"No.  My  mother  died  when  I  was  a  mere  child, 
and  my  Aunt  and  Uncle  cared  for  me,  and  their's 
is  the  only  home  I  have  ever  known.  My  father 
worked  in  the  sulphur  mines  and  was  a  very  poor 
man.  My  Aunt  and  Uncle  are  the  only  relatives  I 
have  in  the  world." 

"Where  do  they  live?" 

"On  a  farm  near  Taormina." 

"What  a  coincidence.  My  mother  also  lived 
there.  Taormina  is  very  ancient  and  rich  in  his- 
torical associations." 

"I  know  nothing  about  the  place.  My  aunt  and 
uncle  were  not  persons  of  learning  and  so  they  could 
tell  me  very  little  regarding  it." 

"But  you  have  read  descriptions  of  the  city  and 
its  environs?" 

"I  am  ashamed  to  confess  I  have  not,  since  I  am 
unable  to  either  read  or  write." 

Anthony  paused.  How  regrettable  he  thought, 
that  she  whom  he  so  much  admired  should  be 
classed  with  the  uneducated. 

"Would  you  not  like  to  learn  to  read  and  write?" 
He  finally  asked.  "It  is  not  too  late.  You  are  still 
very  young." 

"Indeed  I  would,"  replied  the  girl.  "But  I  would 
wish  a  private  teacher." 

"True,"  said  Anthony.  "While  it  is  never  too 
late  to  make  a  good  beginning,  yet  it  is  too  late  for 
you  to  attend  school.  The  position  would  be  too 
embarrassing.  It  would  be  better  if  you  had  a 
tutor." 


38  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"But  how  is  one  to  employ  a  tutor  without 
money?  I  cannot  begin  now  for  that  reason,  so  I 
will  have  to  wait." 

"If  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  help  you.  I  myself 
would  be  your  tutor,  and  assist  you  in  learning  to 
read  and  write." 

Regina  felt  a  keen  delight  at  this  unexpected 
offer.  She  averted  her  gaze  from  Anthony  and 
although  somewhat  agitated,  looked  steadily  at  the 
ground.  Her  cheeks  flushed  and  in  the  atmosphere 
of  the  moment,  the  heart  of  the  simple  country  girl 
of  Taormina  was  changed  into  the  heart  of  a  woman. 

What  manner  of  magic  was  this,  which  for  the 
first  time  transformed  the  innocent  mind  of  the 
flower  girl  into  the  full  consciousness  of  womanly 
knowledge?  While  our  young  student  looked  long 
and  earnestly  on  the  lovely  form,  now  animated  with 
a  new  life,  she  regained  her  former  composure,  and 
was  once  more  a  semblance  of  the  Roman  Flora,  in 
the  full  glory  of  the  Sicilian  sunlight. 

Anthony  was  happy.  Regina  then  gave  him  the 
number  of  the  house  and  name  of  the  street  in 
which  she  resided,  and  after  making  an  entry  of  it 
in  his  note  book,  our  young  student  excused  himself 
and  returned  to  the  university  much  elated  at  the 
success  of  his  adventure.  The  following  day  the 
flower  girl  was  the  sole  object  of  his  thoughts.  Im- 
patiently he  waited  the  coming  of  night.  The  day 
had  never  seemed  so  long.  When  finally  the  sun 
sank  below  the  horizon  he  started  on  his  errand.  As 
he  walked  along  the  streets  there  was  an  elasticity 
in  his  steps,  and  a  courage  in  his  heart,  such  as  a, 
true  lover  experiences.  The  warmth  and  ardor  of 
his  Italian  love  nature  had  suddenly  expressed  itself, 
and  in  the  soul  of  this  simple  peasant  girl  of  Taor- 
mina he  saw  the  whole  world. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  39 

When  Anthony  reached  Regina's  apartment,  he 
found  she  had  laid  aside  the  costume  of  flower  girl 
and  was  in  conventional  dress.  She  greeted  him 
with  her  usual  simplicity,  and  her  natural  unaffected 
manner  made  him  feel  perfectly  at  ease. 

"It  is  a  beautiful  evening,"  he  declared,  "and 
you  seem  dressed  for  a  walk.  Why  not  postpone 
the  first  lesson  until  tomorrow  and  take  advantage 
of  the  splendor  of  the  night  for  a  walk  along  the 
sea  shore?  I  will  show  you  my  favorite  trysting 
place  and  we  can  converse  there  free  from  inter- 
ruptions." 

"It  shall  be  as  you  say,"  said  Regina,  and  ar- 
ranging a  few  flowers  in  her  hair  they  left  the 
apartment  together. 

"Tell  me,"  interrogated  Anthony,  "how  you  came 
to  have  so  special  a  privilege,  as  to  locate  your  flower 
booth  in  the  Great  Square  so  near  the  Fountain? 
Some  friends  having  influence  must  have  aided  you?" 

"Yes,  that  is  true.  Father  Secchi,  an  old  priest 
of  Taormina,  befriended  me.  He  knew  several  of 
the  city  officials  and  gave  me  a  letter  asking  them 
to  grant  me  the  concession  in  his  name.  This  they 
did  unhesitatingly,  I  appreciate  the  favor  very 
highly,  for  I  know  I  have  the  best  place  for  vending 
flowers  in  the  whole  city." 

"And  who  gave  you  the  idea  of  adopting  the 
costume  of  the  Roman  flower  girl?" 

"That  also  was  Father  Secchi's  suggestion.  He 
said  it  would  attract  attention  and  out  of  curiosity 
people  would  buy,  who  otherwise  might  never  come 
near  the  booth." 

"He  is  wiser  in  his  generation  than  the  children 
of  Light,"  thought  Anthony.  "I  suppose  he  is  also 
a  friend  of  your  aunt  and  uncle  who  live  at  Taor- 
mina?" 


40          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"Indeed  he  is,"  replied  the  girl.  "He  has  been 
a  loyal  friend  of  the  family  for  many  years.  When 
my  father  died  he  became  my  constant  advisor  and 
has  helped  me  in  so  many  ways  that  I  can  never 
forget  him." 

"And  what  is  the  name  of  your  aunt  and  uncle?" 

"Angelo  and  Beatrice  Cenci.  They  are  both  very 
old.  They  were  married  at  the  age  of  eighteen  and 
have  resided  on  the  farm  where  they  are  now  living 
for  fifty  years." 

"Beatrice,  that  was  my  poor  mother's  name. 
She  also  came  from  Taormina,  and  died  a  few  days 
after  giving  me  birth.  These  are  strange  coinci- 
dences I  can  assure  you.  Neither  of  us  have  ever 
known  a  mother's  love,  it  is  a  blessing  and  a  bene- 
diction that  we  have  never  known." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  promontory 
overlooking  the  sea.  As  they  seated  themselves  on 
the  smooth  ledge  of  rock  the  moon  rose  in  unclouded 
splendor,  and  casting  over  the  water  in  the  straits 
a  sheen  of  polished  silver,  flooded  the  east  with 
light.  A  gentle  zephyr  stirred  the  vegetation  which 
grew  in  wild  profusion  along  the  cliffs;  while  the 
great  trees  standing  like  sentinels,  nodded  their 
heads  to  and  fro  in  the  moonbeams. 

Was  ever  a  scene  more  glorious  thought  Anthony. 
And  almost  unconsciously  he  took  the  hand  of 
Regina  and  held  it  in  his  own. 

For  some  moments  the  two  sat  in  silence  admir- 
ing the  beauty  of  the  night.  Then  Anthony  press- 
ing gently  the  hand  of  Regina,  asked  her  to  tell  him 
her  life's  story. 

"My  father,"  she  began,  "was  a  laborer  in  the 
sulphur  mines  near  the  town  of  Palermo,  wher«*  we 
resided  at  the  time  of  my  birth.  A  few  weeks  sfter 
I  came  into  the  world  my  mother  died  and  I  was 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  41 

placed  under  the  care  of  my  aunt  near  Taormina, 
where  father  removed  shortly  after  our  home  was 
broken  up.  Under  the  good  care  of  my  uncle  An- 
gelo  and  aunt  Beatrice,  I  reached  my  fifth  year 
when  my  father  worn  out  by  the  heavy  work  in  the 
mines  also  passed  away.  Bereft  of  both  parents  I 
was  now  under  the  sole  charge  of  my  aunt  and 
uncle — my  only  relatives.  From  that  time  on  I 
remember  clearly  the  common  events  of  my  simple 
life.  I  helped  my  aunt  Beatrice  with  the  household 
duties,  while  uncle  Angelo  worked  in  the  fields. 
They  loved  me  tenderly  and  on  account  of  my  habit 
of  gathering  wild  flowers  they  called  me  their  little 
flower  girl.  Many,  many  mornings  during  the  sum- 
mer months  I  arose  long  before  the  dawn,  and  leav- 
ing them  asleep,  stole  out  of  the  house  to  gather 
the  wild  flowers  that  grew  in  such  great  profusion 
in  the  nearby  fields.  This  habit  of  gathering  flowers 
has  never  left  me  and  sometimes  I  even  dream  I  am 
out  again  in  the  early  dawn  picking  the  wild  roses, 
that  grew  around  my  humble  Taormina  home." 

"You  are  a  real  child  of  nature,"  replied  Anthony. 
"But  now  pray  tell  me  something  about  the  house 
in  which  you  lived.  Was  it  built  of  wood  or  stone?" 

"The  house  was  built  of  stone,  and  despite  the 
scorching  rays  of  the  Sicilian  sun  was  very  cool  in 
summer.  It  stood  off  from  the  main  road  several 
hundred  feet,  and  was  completely  hidden  by  trees 
and  foliage.  All  over  the  walls  and  along  the  win- 
dow ledges,  the  clinging  vines  of  the  morning  glories 
had  been  trained  to  creep;  and  I  remember  clearly 
how  my  aunt  always  cautioned  me  not  to  pick  them. 
With  painstaking  labor  she  had  trained  the  vines  to 
creep  along  the  cold  gray  stones,  until  they  com- 
pletely covered  every  inch  of  the  walls,  so  that  our 
home  had  in  reality  the  appearance  of  a  bower  in 


42  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

the  wilderness.  There  were  only  two  rooms — a 
small  kitchen  and  a  room  somewhat  larger  which 
we  used  as  a  living  room,  dining  room  and  bedroom 
all  in  one.  The  walls  and  ceiling  were  whitewashed 
and  above  the  beds  were  hung  some  large  unframed 
pictures  of  the  Crucifixion,  the  Resurrection,  and 
the  Ascension  of  Christ.  My  aunt  Beatrice  was 
very  pious  and  these  pictures  were  her  special  care. 
Having  come  down  to  her  from  her  grandparents, 
and  depicting  as  they  did,  events  in  the  life  of  the 
Saviour,  they  were  to  her  doubly  precious." 

"And  did  your  aunt  Beatrice  explain  to  you  the 
meaning  of  the  pictures?" 

"Yes,  she  told  me  in  her  own  simple  way  the 
main  events  in  the  Life  of  the  Christ.  But  it  is  to 
Father  Secchi  that  I  owe  what  little  knowledge  I 
have  of  Bible  history.  I  remember  very  distinctly 
the  first  time  he  called  at  our  home.  It  was  on  the 
occasion  of  my  seventh  birthday.  Uncle  Angelo  was 
sick  and  Father  Secchi  had  called  to  see  him.  He 
took  quite  an  interest  in  me  and  related  to  us  stories 
from  the  Bible.  During  the  summer  season  he 
would  call  at  our  home  about  once  a  month,  and 
that  was  on  Sunday  afternoon.  I  always  looked 
forward  to  his  visits  with  the  keenest  pleasure.  As 
I  grew  older  his  interest  in  me  increased.  But  he 
never  suggested  that  I  should  go  to  school  or  even 
attempt  to  learn  to  read  and  write.  "God  takes 
care  of  His  little  children,"  he  said,  "when  you  are 
ready  for  those  things,  a  way  will  open  for  you  to 
learn.  Meanwhile  help  your  aunt  Beatrice,,  with 
her  household  duties,  have  no  fear  or  worry  as  to 
the  future,  but  live  hopefully  each  day  growing  in 
grace  and  beauty.  Finally  the  time  may  come  when 
you  will  leave  your  home,  but  even  then,  you  will 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  43 

do  so  with  regret,  for  that  is  the  experience  of 
everyone  who  goes  out  into  the  world." 

"So  under  the  influence  of  Father  Secchi  and  my 
good  relatives,  the  years  passed  happily  until  I 
reached  my  seventeenth  year.  Then  there  rose 
within  me  a  longing,  a  longing  to  know  something 
of  life  and  its  experiences  aside  from  the  daily 
routine  to  which  I  had  been  accustomed.  I  could 
not  define  this  feeling.  At  first  it  was  very  indefi- 
nite, but  it  grew  in  strength  day  after  day  and 
finally  took  entire  possession  of  me.  Then  a  short 
time  ago,  during  one  of  Father  Seechi's  visits,  I  told 
him  of  it — told  him  of  this  indefinite,  insatiable 
longing — this  deep-seated  desire  to  know  more  of 
the  world  than  my  limited  opportunities  had  up  to 
this  time  afforded  me.  I  asked  him  if  this  desire 
was  genuine,  or  was  it  mere  fancy  on  my  part?" 

"He  said  it  was  perfectly  natural  I  should  have 
such  promptings — that  it  was  time  I  should  leave 
the  narrow  circle  of  the  home  for  wider  and  more 
varied  experience,  which  the  great  outer  world  had 
in  store  for  me.  "You  are  not  alone  in  this  desire," 
he  would  say ;  "for  in  the  life  of  every  normal  young 
man  and  woman,  a  time  approaches  when  these 
promptings  become  so  strong  that  they  must  be 
obeyed.  It  is  the  Divine  Intention.  A  part  of  the 
plan  of  the  All- Wise  Creator.  Now  your  case  is  in 
no  way  different  from  the  rest.  You  are  a  part  of 
the  great  humanity  that  is  forever  seeking  to  ex- 
press the  Divine  Will.  Now  you  must  trust  your 
intuitions  and  be  guided  by  them.  I,  myself,  will 
help  you  to  make  this  first  step  in  the  world.  It  is 
my  intention  that  you  should  go  to  Messina.  I 
have  a  friend  there,  who  I  will  ask  to  favor  you  in 
my  name.  You  have  always  loved  flowers;  we  will 
ask  this  friend  of  mine  to  get  you  a  concession  as 


44          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

a  seller  of  flowers,  in  the  Great  Square  near  the 
Fountain  of  Neptune.  We  will  also  ask  that  you 
be  allowed  to  wear  the  costume  of  a  flower  girl  of 
Ancient  Rome.  This  will  attract  people  to  your 
booth  that  otherwise  might  never  come  near  it.  I 
have  no  doubt  of  your  success.  The  simplicity  of 
your  manners  and  your  grace  and  poise  will  insure 
that.  As  a  general  rule  people  having  the  artistic 
sense  are  the  only  ones  who  frequent  the  vicinity 
of  the  Fountain,  so  that  your  patrons  will  be  among 
the  better  classes  of  Messina." 

"On  his  very  next  visit,"  continued  Regina, 
"Father  Secchi  gave  my  uncle  a  letter  addressed  to 
his  friend  in  Messina,  and  advised  my  uncle  to 
bring  me  here  to  this  city  at  his  earliest  convenience. 
At  first  my  uncle  did  not  give  his  consent  to  the 
plan,  but  finally  aunt  Beatrice  and  myself  aided  by 
the  arguments  of  Father  Secchi  overcame  his  scru- 
ples and  he  gave  his  consent.  Three  weeks  a^o  we 
came  to  Messina.  On  presentation  of  Father 
Secchi's  letter  I  was  given  the  concession  near  the 
Fountain  in  the  Great  Square  where  you  met  me. 
You  have  now  the  story  of  my  simple  uneventful 
life.  It  can  not  be  of  much  interest  to  you;  for 
your  experiences  being  of  so  different  a  nature 
would  hardly  allow  you  to  appreciate  the  life  of  one 
whose  activities  had  occupied  so  narrow  a  circle." 

"On  the  contrary,"  replied  Anthony,  "I  am  in- 
terested all  the  more.  The  desires  and  promptings 
that  urged  you  to  leave  your  home  and  go  forth 
into  the  world,  were  identical  with  my  own.  At 
about  the  same  period — my  sixteenth  year,  these 
inner  urgings  also  took  possession  of  me,  with  the 
result  tkat  I,  under  guidance  of  a  priest — the  good 
Father  dementi,  found  refuge  here  in  the  univer- 
sity, where  I  might  assuage  my  insatiable  thirst  for 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  45 

knowledge.  I  have  drank  deep  at  the  Fountain  of 
Learning,  yet  something  tells  me  that  all  this  effort 
is  but  the  beginning — that  I  must  live  my  life  in 
the  world  of  men  and  women  and  there  get  through 
experiences,  the  knowledge  intended  for  me.  Like 
your  advisor,  Father  Secchi,  I  believe  our  intuitions 
are  Divine,  and  that  we  should  follow  them.  For 
when  we  obey  these  promptings,  we  feel  a  joy  and 
happiness  that  words  can  not  express,  and  if  human 
language  fails  in  picturing  so  happy  a  state,  surely 
we  have  been  aided  by  the  Divine  Grace  and  ap- 
proached in  a  minor  degree  toward  that  great 
felicity  that  only  the  angels  know." 

Regina  listened  intently  to  every  word  that 
Anthony  uttered.  She  felt  the  blood  rise  to  her 
cheeks.  She  could  not  control  the  current  of  her 
surging  thought,  nor  could  she  still  the  beating  of 
her  heart.  In  describing  the  duties  of  life  and  the 
homage  due  the  Creator,  the  good  Father  Secchi 
had  sometimes  waxed  eloquent;  yet  here  was  a 
young  man  many  years  younger,  whose  language 
was  more  powerful  and  more  eloquent  than  his  I 
Surely,  if  fate  had  reserved  Anthony  to  be  her  com- 
panion, she  was  indeed  most  fortunate,  for  already 
she  was  beginning  to  feel  something  deeper  than 
mere  friendship  for  him. 

"Tell  me,"  she  asked  Anthony  after  a  short 
pause,  "the  story  of  your  life.  I  am  anxious  to  hear 
it." 

Then  Anthony  recalling  the  memories  of  the 
past  recited  his  life's  story.  Of  his  humble  birth, 
in  the  home  of  Alonzo  at  Ali,  of  his  first  tender 
recollections  of  the  good  Anastasia  and  the  events 
of  his  childhood.  Of  the  friendly  interests  taken  in 
him  by  Father  dementi  when  he  reached  the  age 


46          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

of  boyhood.  How  the  good  Father  had  by  his  able 
scholarship,  advanced  him  so  well  in  his  studies, 
that  at  the  age  of  sixteen  he  knew  the  rudiments 
of  Latin  and  Greek,  and  had  developed  such  a  thirst 
for  knowledge,  that  his  foster  parents  sent  him  to 
the  university  that  same  year.  Of  the  friendships 
he  had  made  there  with  the  learned  doctors  and 
professors  of  the  faculty;  of  the  time  of  his  grad- 
uation, which  was  to  take  place  the  following  June, 
when  Alonzo  and  Anastasia  were  expected  to  be 
present;  and  lastly  of  his  meeting  with  Regina, 
which  was  to  be  the  greatest  factor  in  his  entire 
life,  though  of  that  he  little  dreamed.  When 
Anthony  had  finished  his  narrative,  the  evening  was 
half  spent  and  Regina  reminded  him  that  it  was 
time  they  should  return  to  the  city,  yet  they  lin- 
gered on;  for  in  the  charm  and  beauty  of  Night, 
with  that  sweet  converse  between  congenial  souls, 
all  consciousness  of  time  is  lost,  so  that  it  was  well 
on  toward  midnight  when  they  rose  to  go. 

As  they  walked  along  the  ledges  of  limestone 
which  bound  the  edges  of  the  cliffs,  Anthony  beheld 
in  Regina  a  grace  and  beauty  that  appealed  to  the 
Mghest  emotions  of  his  being.  In  the  glory  of  the 
moonlight  he  saw  a  loveliness,  which  he  worshipped 
in  mute  adoration.  On  his  return  to  his  apartments, 
he  remembered  that  the  great  English  poet,  Lord 
Byron,  had  on  a  similar  occasion,  celebrated  in  verse 
the  feminine  graces  which  now  so  enraptured  him 
;and  going  to  his  library,  he  opened  his  favorite 
translation  of  the  poet's  works,  and  found  in  the 
"Hebrew  Melodies,"  the  poem  entitled  "She  Walks 
in  Beauty," 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  47 

"She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 
Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies; 
And  all  that's  best  of  dark  and  bright 
Meet  in  her  aspect  and  her  eyes: 
Thus  mellow'd  to  that  tender  light 
Which  heaven  to  gaudy  day  denies. 

One  shade  the  more,  one  ray  the  less 
Had  half  impair'd  the  nameless  grace 
Which  waves  in  every  raven  tress, 
Or  softly  lightens  o'er  her  face; 
Where  thoughts  serenely  sweet  express, 
How  pure,  how  dear  their  dwelling  place. 

And  on  that  cheek  and  o'er  that  brow, 

So  soft,  so  calm,  yet  eloquent, 

The  smiles  that  win,  the  tints  that  glow 

But  tell  of  day  in  goodness  spent, 

A  mind  at  peace  with  all  below, 

A  heart  whose  love  is  innocent." 

With  great  feeling  and  passion  Anthony  read 
aloud  the  exquisite  lines  that  breathed  so  much  of 
tenderness  and  love.  "It  is  a  lyric  of  beauty,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "and  was  not  my  beloved  Regina  as 
beautiful  in  the  moonlight  as  Byron's  Hebrew 
maiden?  The  glowing  stanzas  depict  so  clearly  her 
natural  simplicity,  the  beauty  of  her  face  and  form 
and  the  love  of  her  innocent  heart,  that  in  reading 
them  I  too,  take  on  the  poet's  condition  and  feel  the 
Divine  inspiration  stir  within  me." 

How  long  our  hero  continued  to  read,  he  knew 
not.  Finally  he  closed  the  volume  which  he  con- 
tinued to  hold  lightly  in  his  hands  and  fell  into  a 
deep  reverie.  He  recalled  the  happy  day  on  which 
he  had  first  met  Regina  and  the  incidents  that  had 


48  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

led  to  their  acquaintance  and  friendship,  and  now 
knew  that  he  loved  her.  He  continued  to  muse  till 
sleep  overcoming  him,  obliged  him  to  retire,  where 
in  the  realm  of  dreams  he  hoped  to  see  visions  of  a 
happy  future. 

Sleep  on,  unconscious,  innocent,  trustful  youth! 
May  the  night  bring  you  dreams  and  phantasies  and 
envelop  you  with  a  spirit  of  joy,  in  which  your  soul 
for  a  few  brief  hours  may  share.  For  the  curtain 
which  hides  from  view,  the  great  drama  of  your 
life  has  not  yet  been  lifted;  but  when  at  last  it  is 
withdrawn  and  the  shifting  scenes  present  them- 
selves in  quick  succession,  'tis  hoped  you  will  not 
play  the  coward's  part,  and  that  when  the  climax 
is  reached  you  will  not  flee  from  the  beauty  of  your 
own  soul,  which  you  will  behold  for  the  first  time 
— naked  before  the  background  of  the  universe. 

May  the  superhuman  powers  so  aid  you,  that 
when  the  supreme  moment  comes  you  will  be  able 
to  meet  the  new  conditions  that  your  progress  and 
evolution  demand,  and  least  of  all,  may  the  demon 
fear,  have  no  hold  on  you,  but  instead  may  Angelic 
Hope  with  bright  pinions,  be  your  sole  conductor, 
and  with  her  fair  finger,  to  the  realm  of  bliss  and 
achievement  ever  point  your  way. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Courtship  of  Anthony. 

For  valor  is  not  love  a  Hercules, 

Still  climbing  trees  in  the  Hesperides? 

Subtle  as  Sphinx,  as  sweet  and  musical 

As  bright  Apollo's  lute  strung  with  his  hair; 

And  when  Love  speaks  the  voice  of  all  the  gods 

Make  heaven  drowsy  with  the  harmony. 

— Love's  Labor  Lost. 

Every  afternoon  about  two  hours  before  sunset, 
Anthony  and  Regina  repaired  to  the  promontory 
overlooking  the  straits.  Here  the  student  taught 
the  young  flower  girl  the  art  of  reading  and  writing. 
In  the  character  of  Anthony  one  could  easily  observe 
the  qualities  of  a  modern  Abelard;  and  in  the  sweet 
trustful  countenance  of  Regina,  the  famed  beauty 
of  Heloise.  For  in  the  relations  to  each  other  as 
tutor  and  pupil — one  anxious  to  teach  and  the  other 
willing  to  learn,  there  could  be  seen  a  semblance  of 
Abelard  and  Heloise,  the  medieval  lovers  of  nine 
centuries  ago. 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  Regina  mastered 
the  rudiments  of  writing,  but  under  the  painstaking 
care  of  her  teacher,  she  was  at  length  awarded  with 
success  and  great  was  her  joy  when  she  wrote  her 
first  letter  to  her  aunt  Beatrice  at  Taormina. 

Six  months  had  now  passed  since  the  eventful 
day  when  Anthony  had  met  Regina  in  the  Square 


50         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

of  Neptune.  In  the  meantime  he  had  graduated 
with  honors.  Alonzo  and  Anastasia  were  present 
at  the  exercises,  returning  to  their  home  at  Ali  on 
the  day  following. 

Anthony  remained  in  Messina,  not  only  because 
he  had  decided  to  become  a  teacher  of  Italian  liter- 
ature, and  desired  to  be  in  constant  touch  with  his 
professor  who  lived  in  the  City,  but  mainly  from 
the  fact  that  his  beloved  Regina  was  living  there 
also.  How  could  he  leave  her?  She  who  had  been 
the  new  inspiration  of  his  life — who  appealed  to  him 
most  strongly  in  the  simple  character  as  peasant 
and  flower  girl — how  could  he  abandon  her? 

And  so  we  find  Anthony  remaining  in  Messina 
after  the  university  was  closed  for  the  term.  Bus- 
iness and  love,  but  principally  love,  holds  him  there. 
The  young  Abelard  cannot  forsake  the  object  of  his 
passion — he  must  be  near  his  beloved  Heloise.  How 
dear  to  him  are  the  few  hours  before  sundown  when 
he  gives  her  instructions,  and  the  long  evenings 
spent  in  sweet  converse  on  the  old,  old  subject, 
though  ever,  ever  new  to  the  neophyte  in  love  for 
the  first  time. 

On  a  certain  evening  toward  the  end  of  June, 
when  the  lovers  had  repaired  to  the  promontory, 
Regina  opened  the  conversation  by  referring  to  the 
great  love  which  had  now  become  the  dominating 
factor  in  her  life,  to  which  everything  else  was  in- 
significant in  comparison.  Then  clasping  her  be- 
loved by  the  hand  and  lowering  her  voice  exclaimed : 

"Anthony,  now  that  we  are  bethrothed  let  us 
spend  the  few  weeks  that  remain  before  our  mar- 
riage at  my  old  home  near  Taormina.  I  am  sure  my 
aunt  Beatrice  will  be  glad  to  have  us  come.  Some- 
things impels  me  to  go  back  to  my  relatives.  I  wish 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  51 

to  be  their  little  flower  girl  again  before  I  become 
a  wife.  Let  them  see  me  and  love  me  once  more  as 
their  little  Regina — their  little  flower  girl  as  of  Old. 
What  do  you  think  of  the  idea?" 

"It  is  very  good  and  I  quite  agree  with  you," 
replied  Anthony,  "and  I  also  think  it  would  be  well 
to  have  my  foster  mother  the  good  Anastasia  ac- 
company us." 

"When  shall  we  start?" 

"Tomorrow." 

"Then  as  lovers,  this  will  be  our  last  night  on 
the  promontory,"  said  Regina.  "This  seat  overlook- 
ing the  straits,  holds  the  secrets  of  our  love.  We 
have  spent  many  happy  hours  here — the  happiest 
of  our  lives  and  I  will  always  hold  the  place  in  ten- 
der memory." 

"Yes,"  replied  Anthony,  "nor  can  I  do  other- 
wise. Before  I  met  you,  it  was  my  favorite  trysting 
place.  Here  I  repaired  to  rest  myself  in  the  late 
afternoons  after  days  of  hard  study.  In  my  deep 
musings  I  imagined  myself  very  happy,  and  there 
seemed  nothing  wanting  to  complete  my  felicity." 

"Then  you  came  into  my  life.  A  flower  girl  of 
Rome — that  ancient  Rome  of  the  Caesars,  and  you 
taught  me  love.  Here  on  this  stone  seat,  I  first 
thought  to  banish  you  from  my  memory,  but  try 
as  I  would,  the  effort  always  failed.  Then  I  grew 
to  love  you,  and  in  that  love  I  found  a  happiness  of 
which  I  had  never  before  even  dreamed.  This  pro- 
montory alone  is  the  mute  silent  witness  of  the 
tender  words  we  have  spoken  and  the  memory  of 
the  place  shall  never  leave  me.  It  is  with  regret 
that  I  leave  it  even  as  a  lover;  though  I  know  we 
shall  return  as  husband  and  wife  at  a  future  time, 
to  live  over  in  memory,  the  happy  days  of  court- 
ship." 


52          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"Yes,  Anthony,  you  mention  the  happy  days  of 
courtship;  of  all  the  days  they  are  indeed  the  hap- 
piest. Let  us  rememher  them  well  and  value  them 
highly,  for  sorrow  and  care  may  be  our  portion 
afterwards." 

"Yes,  but  while  that  is  true,  you  should  not  dwell 
so  long  on  the  serious  thought.  Let  lighter  fancies 
rule  your  mind  for  the  present.  We  have  happiness 
before  us." 

"I  am  glad  you  are  so  cheerful  and  I  will  try  to 
banish  the  gloomy  thoughts  that  seem  to  so  thor- 
oughly possess  me,"  replied  Regina. 

Thus  the  lovers  talked  until  far  into  the  night, 
of  their  hopes  and  visions  of  a  happy  future. 

On  the  following  day  they  made  the  journey  by 
rail  to  Taormina.  At  the  station  Anthony  hired  a 
conveyance  to  take  them  to  the  farm  of  Angelo 
which  was  about  three  miles  from  the  town.  The 
way  was  over  a  white  dusty  limestone  road,  which 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  heavy  Sicilian  vege- 
tation in  the  closing  days  of  June.  After  driving 
nearly  three  miles  they  left  the  main  road  and 
turned  into  a  sort  of  lane,  at  the  end  of  which  was 
the  farm  house.  When  Regina  pointed  out  the  place 
to  him  Anthony  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"It  is  as  you  have  said,  a  bower  in  the  wilder- 
ness," he  cried.  "I  cannot  see  the  house  for  the 
vines  and  morning  glories.  As  the  home  of  your 
childhood,  it  is  indeed  an  ideal  place,  and  it  is  now 
clear  to  me  why  you  wished  to  return  to  this  fairy- 
like  bower,  that  holds  the  cherished  memories  of 
your  earliest  years." 

"Yes,  I  had  a  definite  longing  to  return,  for  try 
as  I  might,  I  could  endure  separation  from  my  rela- 
tives no  longer.  In  my  desire  to  be  with  them  I 
would  picture  in  my  mind  every  nook  and  corner  of 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  S3 

the  old  home,  and  even  the  white  limestone  paths 
over  which  I  used  to  run  in  my  bare  feet,  chasing 
the  butterflies  during  the  long  summer  mornings. 
Sometimes  when  these  memories  played  so  heavily 
on  my  heart-strings,  I  suffered  the  acutest  pain,  and 
it  was  on  account  of  these  remembrances,  that  I 
was  so  despondent  and  gave  expression  to  the 
gloomy  thoughts  which  so  occupied  my  mind  the 
last  night  we  were  in  Messina.  But  see,  there  on 
the  porch  stand  my  aunt  and  uncle  to  welcome  us. 
Aunt  Beatrice  has  already  recognized  me.  Let  us 
leave  the  carriage  here  and  hasten  to  meet  them.'' 

Alighting  from  the  conveyance,  they  entered  the 
little  yard  and  going  up  to  her  aunt  Beatrice,  Regina 
embraced  her  tenderly.  Then  she  introduced  Anr 
thony  as  her  betrothed,  saying: 

"This  young  man  is  Anthony  Colombo.  We  met 
in  Messina  and  learned  to  love.  He  is  a  university 
graduate.  At  the  completion  of  his  examinations 
which  he  passed  with  honor,  we  became  engaged 
and  a  few  evenings  ago,  I  suggested  that  we  pay  a 
visit  to  my  old  home,  so  here  we  are.  Uncle  Angelo, 
I  trust  you  will  not  think  me  rude  or  hasty  in  so 
important  a  matter.  It  is  our  intention  to  spend 
the  few  remaining  weeks  of  our  courtship  here  with 
you;  then  we  will  be  married  by  my  old  dear  friend 
Father  Secchi  and  start  on  our  honeymoon.  An- 
thony is  the  sole  foster  son  of  Alonzo  Diodatti  of 
Ali,  a  wealthy  man,  who  owns  lemon  groves  near 
Messina.  We  will  have  plenty  of  money  to  spend  on 
our  honeymoon  and  to  keep  us  in  comfort  forever 
afterwards.  Oh,  it  is  so  great  a  thing  to  be  so 
happy!" 

"Regina  is  happy,"  said  Anthony,  as  he  clasped 
the  hand  of  uncle  Angelo,  "she  is  impulsive  and 
impetuous  and  reveals  on  the  exterior  what  she  feels 


54  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

in  her  heart.  Thus  is  it  ever  with  the  happy  chil- 
dren of  nature.  They  are  so  filled  with  self -forget- 
ting impulses.  Yet  there  is  a  reason  why  she  should 
revel  in  such  a  spirit  of  happiness.  These  ideal  sur- 
roundings— this  fairy-like  bower  in  the  wilderness 
— these  shaded  walks,  trailing  vines,  morning  glories 
and  butterflies,  are  enough  in  themselves  to  implant 
in  an  innocent  heart  the  conditions  which  assure  joy 
and  "the  peace  that  passeth  understanding."  Uncle 
Angelo,  it  was  agreed  between  us  when  we  left  Mas- 
sina,  that  I  would  help  you  work  in  the  fields,  while 
Regina  would  assist  aunt  Beatrice  with  the  house- 
work during  our  stay  here." 

"That  is  well  my  boy,"  replied  Angelo.  "Regina 
can  do  her  part,  but  I  fear  your  hands  are  too  soft 
for  the  hard  exhausting  labor  in  the  fields.  Look 
at  mine." 

Angelo  extended  his  hands  and  Anthony  noticed 
the  great  breadth  of  the  palms,  the  heavy  fingers, 
knotted,  hardened  and  calloused  with  toil. 

"For  over  sixty  years,"  continued  Angelo,  "I 
have  done  manual  labor,  sowing,  plowing  and  reap- 
ing. I  commenced  to  work  in  my  fifteenth  year.  If 
it  is  your  wish,  you  may  help  me  in  the  lighter  work 
on  the  farm  until  the  work  proper  of  reaping  begins." 

"And  why  should  I  not  continue  to  work  on  with 
the  reapers?"  asked  Anthony. 

"Because  the  work  is  hard  and  the  hours  long — 
from  daybreak  till  dark.  I  do  not  think  you  could 
stand  up  under  the  strain." 

"Though  it  may  be  difficult,  as  you  say,  yet  I 
will  try  it.  My  father  was  a  reaper.  The  good 
Anastasia,  my  foster-mother,  used  to  tell  me  about 
him.  He  died  a  few  months  before  I  came  into  the 
world.  Then  my  mother  died  a  few  days  after  giv- 
ing me  birth.  The  good  Anastasia,  in  whose  house 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  55 

I  first  saw  the  light,  told  me  of  my  father.  And 
what  she  knew,  she  obtained  from  my  mother's  lips 
direct.  I  shall  indeed  work  with  the  reapers.  What 
the  father  did,  the  son  will  do.  I  will  do  it  in 
memory  of  him." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Angelo.  "It  shall  be  as  you 
say;  and  you  can  begin  tomorrow  by  helping  me 
pick  fruit.  Now  let  us  join  your  betrothed  and  your 
aunt  Beatrice  at  dinner." 

As  they  entered  the  house,  Anthony  was  struck 
by  the  simplicity  of  the  surroundings.  The  furni- 
ture was  of  the  crudest  pattern.  There  were  no 
books.  The  floors  were  bare,  but  scrupulously  clean. 
On  the  wall  above  the  bed,  were  the  three  large  un- 
framed  pictures,  as  described  by  Regina,  depicting 
scenes  from  the  life  of  The  Christ,  the  Crucifixion, 
Resurrection  and  the  Ascension.  This  was  the  only 
evidence  of  art  the  home  contained.  The  atmosphere 
of  the  place,  however,  had  a  soothing  effect  on 
Anthony,  for  no  sooner  had  he  entered  the  room, 
when  he  felt  the  calmness  of  perfect  peace  descend- 
ing upon  him  like  a  benediction. 

The  dinner  over,  Anthony  and  Angelo  went  forth 
into  the  fields  where  they  spent  the  afternoon  in 
earnest  conversation  on  the  subject  of  Sicilian  farm- 
ing. As  the  day  drew  to  its  close,  Angelo  pointed 
out  the  prickly  pear  and  lemon  trees,  the  fruit  of 
which  they  would  pick  on  the  morrow. 

That  night  an  animated  scene  presented  itself 
in  the  home  of  Angelo  and  Beatrice.  Regina,  their 
little  flower  girl,  had  returned  to  them,  with  her 
betrothed,  a  young  Sicilian  of  education  and  attain- 
ment. What  mirth  and  conviviality  on  so  great  an 
occasion  flowed  around  their  humble  hearthstone! 
With  what  earnestness  did  not  Angelo  relate  the 
story  of  his  early  struggles.  And  what  a  relief  it 


56          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

was  to  know  and  feel  that  the  fifty-five  years  of 
married  life  and  arduous  labor,  had  been  sanctified 
by  a  belief  in  God  and  an  absolute  trust  in  his 
Providence. 

The  next  morning  Anthony  helped  Angelo  to 
pick  prickly  pears  and  lemons.  This  form  of  labor 
was  followed  for  several  weeks,  alternating  with 
other  light  work  on  the  farm.  When  finally  harvest 
time  arrived,  in  the  hot  month  of  August  and  the 
annual  task  of  the  gleaning  of  the  fields  took  place 
throughout  all  Sicily,  Angelo  engaged  several  reap- 
ers to  harvest  his  grain.  This  was  the  opportunity 
for  which  Anthony  had  waited.  Tying  a  red  hand- 
kerchief around  his  neck  and  providing  himself  with 
a  corn  scythe,  he  joined  the  band  of  reapers.  As 
they  worked,  they  sang  stanzas  of  song  to  the  Virgin 
and  Saints  in  which  he  heartily  joined.  On  Sundays, 
he  attended  the  three  o'clock  Mass  in  the  morning, 
for  there  is  no  cessation  of  work  in  Sicily,  when 
once  the  harvest  has  begun,  until  it  is  finished.  The 
work  goes  on  uninterruptedly.  So  Anthony  labored 
with  them  from  dawn  till  dark  and  slept  on  the 
ground  as  they  did,  and  as  his  father  did  before  him. 
It  was  hard  training  for  the  young  graduate  and 
his  hands  were  blistered  and  sore,  but  he  must 
experience  the  life  his  father  lived  and  know  the 
hardships  through  which  he  passed.  So  we  find 
him  daily  at  work  with  the  reapers,  enduring  the 
intense  heat  of  the  August  sun,  and  sharing  their 
simple  fare  with  them. 

When  at  last  the  harvest  was  finished,  Anthony 
experienced  a  deep  sense  of  satisfaction,  for  he 
knew  something  of  the  reapers'  life,  and  the  unre- 
mitting toil  they  so  willingly  endured.  A  few  days 
before  the  completion  of  the  work,  Alonzo  and 
Anastasia  arrived  from  Ali  and  took  up  quarters  in 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  57 

a  hotel  at  Taormina,  in  order  to  be  present  at  the 
wedding  of  Anthony  which  was  to  take  place  within 
a  few  days.  The  harvesting  being  now  fully  com- 
pleted, there  was  nothing  talked  of  in  the  home  of 
Angelo  save  the  preparations  for  the  marriage.  On 
the  following  Sunday  the  happy  group  travelled  by 
conveyances  to  Taormina,  to  be  the  guests  of  Father 
Secchi,  who  was  to  perform  the  wedding  ceremony 
on  the  morrow. 

Regina  was  more  than  elated  to  meet  her  old 
friend  Father  Secchi.  The  spiritual  advisor  and 
instructor  of  her  childhood,  was  to  officiate  at  her 
marriage;  bowed  down  with  years  the  venerable 
priest  was  a  type  of  the  patriarchs  of  Old.  He 
greeted  Regina  with  that  love  and  affection  which 
characterizes  the  spiritual  Father. 

"And  so  my  little  flower  girl  has  returned,"  he 
said,  "and  brought  with  her,  her  betrothed,  this 
young  gentleman  of  learning  from  the  University 
of  Messina.  Had  you  any  idea  that  such  a  happy 
event  was  to  happen  to  you,  when  you  left  your 
home  to  set  up  your  flower  booth  in  the  famous 
Square  of  Neptune?" 

"No,  Father,  I  did  not;  for  you  know  it  is  de- 
clared that  we  can  never  know  the  future.  I  can 
only  say  that  I  obeyed  you  implicitly  in  going  to 
Messina,  and  it  is  therefore  in  the  following  of  your 
advice  and  instructions  that  this  great  happiness 
has  come  into  my  life." 

"I  am  glad,  child,  to  see  you  so  happy.  Indeed 
the  culmination  of  your  visit  to  Messina,  came 
rather  sooner  than  I,  myself,  expected,  and  I  feel 
that  your  meeting  with  Anthony  was  in  no  way  by 
chance  or  accident,  but  was  an  event  prearranged 


58  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

by  Providence  itself.  In  the  early  years  of  my  min- 
istrations as  a  priest,  I  believed  in  chance  happen- 
ings and  accidents;  but  with  the  knowledge  of  later 
years  I  became  ashamed  to  hold  such  beliefs,  for  if 
accidents  are  real  and  not  relative,  then  God's  laws 
are  capricious  and  not  immutable." 

"And  I  like  you,  have  come  to  the  same  conclu- 
sion," said  a  deep  voice  from  the  doorway. 

Surprised  at  the  intrusion,  the  members  of  the 
party  turned  their  gaze  in  the  direction  of  the 
speaker;  Anthony  being  first  to  recognize  him, 
sprang  forward  and  clasping  both  his  hands  ex- 
claimed : 

"Father  dementi,  you  here!  I  had  invited  you 
to  our  wedding,  but  you  sent  word  you  were  ill  and 
could  not  come." 

"Yes,  I  was  at  the  time,  but  the  good  news  re- 
juvenated me  and  I  quickly  recovered  from  my 
depression.  I  am  glad  to  be  with  you  on  this  great 
event  in  your  life.  I  was  your  first  instructor,  and 
I  was  so  delighted  in  you  for  the  proficiency  you 
showed  in  Latin  and  Greek.  Do  you  remember  the 
interest  you  took  in  astronomy  and  the  happy  eve- 
nings we  spent  studying  the  star  groups?" 

"Indeed  I  do;  I  can  never  forget  those  happy 
hours  and  I  am  more  than  pleased  to  know  that  you 
and  Father  Secchi,  who  were  the  teachers  of  Regina 
and  myself,  are  both  to  be  present  at  our  marriage." 

"Yes,  it  is  a  happy  reunion,"  interposed  Father 
Secchi,  "and  as  soon  as  the  dinner  is  over,  I  suggest 
that  we  set  out  for  the  site  of  the  Ancient  Theatre; 
our  entire  party  will  enjoy  the  outing.  Is  it  so 
understood?" 

There  was  no  dissenting  voice;  so  when  the  meal 
was  over  the  little  group  started  for  the  environs  of 
Taormina.  The  two  priests  led  the  party  over  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  59 

limestone  ledges  that  led  to  the  Theatre,  and  the 
Ancient  site  of  what  had  once  been  one  of  the 
famous  edifices  of  Antiquity.  From  the  topmost 
round  of  seats,  a  scene  of  beauty  unfolded  itself  to 
the  beholders  like  a  panorama.  On  the  right,  Mount 
Etna  reared  her  majestic  pinnacle  of  snow,  from 
whose  white  cone  a  dark  curling  wreath  of  smoke 
wound  slowly  upward.  Southward  the  blue  waters 
of  the  Mediterranean  sparkled  in  the  Sicilian  sun- 
light, the  whole  view  making  a  scene  which  in  its 
ensemble,  has  been  declared  by  travellers  to  be  the 
finest  in  the  world. 

"Have  you  ever  witnessed  a  scene  more  beauti- 
ful?" asked  Father  Secchi,  turning  to  Anthony. 

"Never,"  replied  the  young  graduate.  "During 
the  years  of  my  stay  in  Messina,  my  favorite  tryst- 
ing  place,  a  promontory  overlooking  the  Straits,  was 
a  retreat  where  I  spent  many  happy  hours.  The 
spot  was  a  most  secluded  one  and  commanded  a 
view  of  the  Rock  of  Scylla  and  the  Whirlpool  of 
Charybdis.  There  for  many,  many  hours,  have  I 
sat  in  silent  meditation,  musing  on  that  great  thing 
called  Nature  and  the  mystery  of  Being.  Then 
later,  when  Regina  came  into  my  life  and  became 
my  idol,  the  place  almost  became  sacred  to  me,  for 
it  was  there  that  we  breathed  out  the  story  of  our 
love,  and  while  it  will  always  occupy  a  place  in  my 
heart,  on  account  of  these  tender  memories  and 
associations,  yet  I  do  think  this  scene  to  be  the 
finest,  beauty  alone  considered;  yet  for  a  scene  to 
be  forever  cherished  in  the  memory,  give  me  my 
promontory  overlooking  the  Straits  of  Messina." 

"Yes,  replied  the  priest,  "there  is  no  place 
revered  by  the  memory  as  the  place  hallowed  by 
love.  These  memories  are  sacred.  It  is  a  part  of 


60          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

the  Divine  Plan  in  God's  Creation,  that  no  length 
of  time  can  erase  the  record  from  the  consciousness." 
It  was  now  near  sundown.  As  the  little  band  of 
devoted  friends  wended  their  way  down  the  precip- 
itous ledges  of  limestone,  the  entire  sky  in  the  West 
was  bathed  in  the  glories  of  a  Sicilian  sunset.  Long 
streamers  of  red  and  purple  light,  rising  from  the 
sun  behind  the  sea,  stretched  their  quivering  forms 
almost  half  way  to  the  zenith.  A  few  scattered 
clouds  tinged  with  purple  and  gold,  moved  majes- 
tically on  the  horizon.  Far  out  to  the  sunset  line, 
a  few  fishing  boats  floated  idly  on  the  waves,  at- 
tended by  the  ever-present  seagulls,  uttering  their 
hoarse  gutteral  cries.  As  the  short  twilight  deepened 
into  night,  the  sky  lost  its  rosy  color,  and  the  glor- 
ious scene  began  to  fade  as  it  were,  into  air,  for  the 
last  gleams  of  day  were  now  buried  in  the  dark 
waters  of  the  Mediterranean. 


CHAPTER  V. 
Adventures  in  the  Alps. 

Not  vainly  did  the  early  Persian  make 

His  altar  the  high  places,  and  the  peak 

Of  earth's  o'er  ranging  mountains,  and  thus  take 

A  fit  and  unwall'd  temple,  there  to  seek 

The  Spirit  in  whose  honor  shrines  are  weak 

Uprear'd  of  human  hands. 

— Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage. 

The  marriage  of  Anthony  and  Regina  was 
solemnized  in  Taormina  on  the  following  day.  At 
the  conclusion  of  the  wedding  breakfast,  a  discus- 
sion arose  among  the  members  of  the  little  group, 
as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  young  couple  should 
spend  their  honeymoon.  Alonzo  had  provided  An- 
thony with  ample  funds  to  defray  the  expenses  of 
the  journey,  and  had  purchased  him  a  house  in 
Messina  which  was  to  be  his  future  home.  But  for 
the  present,  the  all  absorbing  topic  was  the  itinerary 
of  the  honeymoon. 

"I  do  not  care  now,"  said  Regina,  "to  visit  the 
European  capitals.  Let  us  have  a  more  romantic 
journey." 

"I  agree  with  you  heartily,"  said  Anthony.  "For 
eight  long  years  I  have  been  deep  in  study.  A  visit 
to  the  great  centers  at  this  time  would  not  interest 
me.  Let  Paris  and  Rome  wait,  at  a  later  time  we 
will  visit  them,  but  for  the  present  I  would  suggest 
that  we  should  go  to  the  extreme  northwest  of 
Italy,  and  plunge  into  the  heart  of  the  Alps.  We 


62  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

will  stop  at  some  Alpine  village,  and  each  day  go 
forth  into  the  foothills  of  the  mountains,  returning 
to  the  village  at  night -fall.  I  have  read  much  of 
such  excursions  and  they  must  be  most  romantic. 
What  say  you  Regina?" 

"That  it  will  be  a  novel  journey.  I  will  be  at 
home  in  the  mountains.  Their  immense  and  silent 
forms  always  had  a  strange  fascination  for  me." 

"Then  it  is  agreed  that  this  is  the  way  we  will 
spend  the  next  few  weeks,  and  on  our  return  to 
Messina,  where  we  are  to  make  our  permanent  home, 
I  will  take  up  my  duties  as  teacher  in  the  univer- 
sity." 

Several  hours  after  the  young  couple  had  decided 
on  their  novel  honeymoon,  preparations  were  hastily 
made  for  the  departure.  Under  the  stress  of  emo- 
tions which  they  could  not  conceal,  it  was  apparent 
every  one  felt  the  coming  separation.  When  at  last 
the  final  farewells  were  said,  the  young  man  and 
wife,  showered  with  best  wishes  from  their  relatives 
and  the  blessing  of  the  two  priests,  took  their  final 

leave,  the  happy  event  became  naught  but  a  memory. 

***** 

A  few  days  later  the  young  husband  and  bride 
reached  the  village  of  Chamouni.  It  was  sundown 
when  they  entered  the  charming  Vale.  The  shadows 
were  already  lengthening  along  the  foothills,  while 
the  peaks  were  still  reflecting  the  beams  of  the  set- 
ting sun.  Fatigued  with  travel,  they  repaired  at 
once  to  one  of  the  village  hotels  to  rest  and  refresh 
themselves  after  their  arduous  journey. 

On  the  following  morning  shortly  before  noon, 
Anthony  secured  the  services  of  a  guide,  who  was 
to  conduct  them  into  the  valley.  They  had  gone 
but  a  short  distance  from  the  village  when  they  met 
a  band  of  Swiss  singers.  Among  their  number  there 
was  a  youth,  who  could  not  have  been  more  than 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  63 

seventeen  years  of  age.  He  carried  his  harp  with 
a  grace  and  abandon  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  a  harpist  of  maturer  age.  The  perfect  freedom 
of  his  movements,  and  the  happy  expression  of  his 
eye,  seemed  to  assure  a  tranquillity  of  mind  in  per- 
fect keeping  with  the  artistic  life  of  the  true  min- 
strel. Bowing  low  before  our  little  group,  he  asked 
them  if  it  was  their  wish  that  he  should  entertain 
them  with  a  song. 

Struck  with  the  natural  charm  of  his  manner 
and  the  original  quaintness  of  his  Swiss  costume, 
Anthony  and  Regina  at  once  consented.  Accordingly 
Carlo,  for  that  was  the  young  troubadour's  name, 
set  his  harp  on  the  ground  and  commenced  to  sing. 
The  wild  notes  of  the  song,  together  with  the  won- 
derful warbling  that  accompanied  it,  at  once  won 
the  heart  of  Regina,  who  prevailed  on  her  husband 
to  have  the  young  troubadour  accompany  them  into 
the  valley  for  the  day. 

"If  it  is  your  wish,"  said  Carlo,  "I  will  gladly 
spend  the  time  with  you.  I  can  always  sing  better 
if  I  am  engaged  in  advance,  for  then  I  make  friends 
of  my  patrons  as  well  as  listeners." 

Throwing  his  harp  lightly  over  his  shoulder  the 
flaxen  haired  singer,  preceded  the  young  couple  on 
the  way,  while  the  guide  walked  on  in  advance.  The 
marvellous  scenery  of  the  region  was  a  source  of 
wonder  to  Anthony  and  Regina,  but  on  the  guide 
and  the  minstrel  it  had  no  such  effect.  To  the 
splendid  pictures  that  were  presented  on  every  hand 
they  seemed  totally  oblivious.  Accustomed  as  they 
were  to  the  beauties  of  the  valley,  they  walked  on 
in  silence,  until  they  reached  the  foothills  within 
sight  of  Mount  Blanc. 


64          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Here  Anthony  declared  they  would  rest  for  the 
day,  and  while  the  troubadour  was  engaged  in  set- 
ting his  harp  on  the  ground,  so  that  he  would  have 
a  comfortable  position  while  singing,  the  young 
professor  glancing  upward  beheld  the  "Monarch  of 
Mountains,"  rearing  her  snow  clad  summit  above 
the  clouds  and  lightnings.  Instinctively  he  felt  that 
the  power  that  "sunk  her  sunless  pillars  deep  in 
earth"  and  "filled  her  countenance  with  rosy  light" 
so  aptly  described  by  the  poet,  still  brooded  over 
the  valley. 

After  they  had  rested  themselves  for  some  time, 
Carlo  said  he  was  ready  to  sing.  "I  will  sing  for 
you,"  he  said,  "  a  song  that  my  mother  taught  me 
when  I  was  a  child.  My  mother  was  a  Greek  and 
the  scene  of  the  tale  is  laid  in  Ancient  Greece.  The 
song  is  somewhat  lengthy — containing  some  sixty 
or  more  stanzas,  but  it  conveys  a  mystical  truth 
that  I  always  love  to  present,  so  I  will  ask  you  to 
bear  with  me  till  I  finish  the  recital." 

So  saying  the  young  troubadour  touched  the 
cords  of  his  harp  with  such  lightness  and  agility 
that  his  listeners  were  delighted  at  the  perfection 
of  his  art.  Then  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  simple 
yet  beautiful  melody,  he  sang  the  following  prelude : 


Hail  gentle  shepherd  of  the  hills, 
My  Muse  inspiring  me, 
This  simple  song  of  fields  and  rills, 
I  dedicate  to  thee. 

For  thou  art  near  to  Nature's  heart, 
Thou  livest  far  away, 
From  busy  scene  of  street  and  mart, 
And  civic  splendor  gay. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  65 

A  goat's  rough  hide  thy  loins  embrace, 
Thy  bright  eye  beameth  fair, 
And  in  thy  happy  mien  I  trace, 
A  sweet  contented  air. 

For  on  thy  sloping  mountain  side, 

A  God-like  glory  gleams; 

And  in  thy  vales  where  streamlets  glide, 

A  heavenly  lustre  beams. 

With  joy  I  hail  thee,  gentle  swain, 
Who  playeth  pipes  of  Pan; 
Whose  bronzed  cheek  in  sun  and  rain, 
The  morning  zephyrs  fan. 

My  simple  art;  my  simple  theme, 
In  echoes  wild  and  free; 
Of  vision  and  of  poet's  dream, 
I  dedicate  to  thee. 


As  the  troubadour  sang  the  last  lines  of  the 
prelude,  his  eye  glowed  with  rapture,  and  pausing 
a  moment  as  if  to  gain  greater  inspiration,  he  again 
struck  the  quivering  cords  of  his  harp,  and  com- 
menced his  theme  which  he  entitled: 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  PROPHECY. 

I. 

Dark  was  the  night  in  Ilion's  vale, 
For  trembling  Cynthia  shed  no  ray; 
Nor  twinkling  star  its  lustre  pale, 
On  brave  Avalon's  lonely  way. 


66       I    THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Why  doth  the  shepherd  tempt  the  night? 
A  night  of  wind  and  howling  storm, 
When  mountain  spirits  shriek  delight, 
And  lash  the  lightning  round  his  form? 

Above  the  peaks  the  thunder  tones, 
Of  mighty  Jove  incessant  roll; 
Until  afar  the  distant  moans, 
Re-echo  to  the  nether  pole. 

Avalon's  mission  must  be  grave, 
To  wander  forth  a  night  like  this; 
When  other  souls  on  land  and  wave, 
The  god  of  sleep  their  eyelids  kiss. 

But  bravely  through  the  wind  and  rain, 
The  shepherd  presses  ever  on; 
Nor  shall  his  effort  be  in  vain, 
Although  his  strength  be  almost  gone. 

Toward  a  lodge  of  rough  hewn  stone, 
Avalon  bends  his  weary  way, 
No  light  in  wall  or  crevice  shown, 
To  cheer  him  with  its  friendly  ray. 

With  all  his  strength  he  hurls  his  form, 
Against  the  portal's  massive  beam; 
And  through  the  soughing  of  the  storm, 
And  forked  lightnings  fitful  gleam, 

A  massive  form  is  seen  to  rise, 
And  utter  a  defiant  cry; 
And  challenge  with  its  bloodshot  eyes, 
The  call  to  combat  or  to  die. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  67 

"Fiend  of  a  father,  sheathe  thy  sword," 
Shouts  Avalon  with  hurried  breath, 
"I  come  with  my  prophetic  word, 
My  errand  is  not  one  of  death. 

Although  thy  strength  be  known  afar, 
The  fame  of  thy  ancestral  line; 
Thou  canst  inflict  no  single  scar, 
For  I  am  clothed  with  Power  Divine. 

Where  is  thy  daughter,  wretched  sire, 
What  did'st  thou  to  the  Grecian  maid? 
What  demon  fann'd  thy  vengeful  ire, 
In  what  love  vale  is  Myra  laid? 

Though  intuition's  heavenly  sphere 
Reveals  the  place  where  Myra  fell, 
The  swain  lets  fall  no  bitter  tear, 
Though  Avalon  loved  Myra  well. 

And  in  a  dream  this  very  night, 
I  heard  her  last  expiring  sigh; 
Beheld  her  form  in  mystic  light, 
Far  past  the  range  of  fleshly  eye. 

Dare  not  conceal  thy  fiend-like  crime, 
For  know  my  knowledge  is  most  sure, 
Eternal  through  all  endless  time — 
Long  as  Eternities  endure." 

Up  rose  the  form  that  half  conceaPd, 
Had  lain  in  trembling  terror  low; 
Whose  halting  blood  now  half  congeal'd, 
Refused  in  icy  veins  to  flow. 


68          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"Hold!  hold!  thy  curse,"  the  murderer  cries, 

"I  know  my  Myra  was  most  fair; 

The  glory  of  my  ageing  eyes, 

Oh!  mock  no  more  my  mute  despair. 

But  she  was  prone  to  love  a  youth, 
A  rustic  shepherd  of  the  glen; 
An  uncouth  swain  in  very  truth, 
Far,  far  removed  from  ways  of  men. 

For  this  impulse  of  tender  age, 
I  lost  the  love  a  sire  should  feel, 
And  in  her  heart  in  fiendish  rage, 
The  demon  plunged  his  curs'ed  steel. 

Spare,  spare  me  Zeus;  spare  thy  son, 
Thou  knowest  my  long  ancestral  line; 
What  Grecian  triumphs  bravely  won, 
Hath  borne  Thee  records  such  as  mine?" 

But  all  in  vain,  the  warrior  fain, 
Calls  on  the  gods  to  cease  their  ire; 
What  mortal  deign,  on  land  or  main, 
To  prompt  them  from  their  just  desire? 

His  flaxen  hair  so  long  and  fine, 

The  glorious  gift  Apollo  gave; 

In  blood  stained  threads  his  hands  entwine, 

On  high  the  gory  ringlets  wave. 

Far  from  his  side  in  circle  wide, 
His  red  stain'd  sword  the  murderer  flings; 
And  high  in  air  while  lightnings  glare, 
With  cries  of  guilt  the  welkin  rings. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  69 

"Debased  wretch  now  crouch  and  hear, 
Avalon's  sentence  passed  on  thee; 
'Tis  called  above  this  mortal  sphere, 
The  mystic  shepherd's  prophecy: 

For  ten  long  years  o'er  oceans  wide, 
Thou  art  condemned,  the  world  to  roam; 
Devoid  of  hope  and  manly  pride, 
Denied  at  every  hearth  a  home. 

No  bard  will  sing  thy  family  fame, 
No  child  thy  memory  will  revere; 
No  scion  to  lisp  a  father's  name, 
Or  wipe  from  f urrow'd  cheek  the  tear. 

With  awful  thoughts  that  sear  and  burn, 
And  heart  embalmed  in  bitter  grief, 
Unto  these  vales  thou  shalt  return, 
Nor  wilt  thy  sorrow  find  relief. 

And  on  a  night  when  tempests  roar, 

And  f orky  lightnings  cleave  the  deep, 

And  thunders  roll  on  heaven's  floor, 

And  friendly  stars  no  vigil  keep, 

Then  shall  these  mountain  stones  on  high, 
Cut  with  sharp  edge  thy  cursed  heel; 
When  on  thy  way  with  guilty  eye, 
Thou  goest  forth  thy  doom  to  seal. 

For  on  yon  mountain's  topmost  stair, 
Whose  scarped  form  thou  knowest  well, 
Thou  shalt  leap  forth  through  ebon  air, 
To  send  thy  spirit  down  to  hell." 


70  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

II. 

Hush'd  is  the  storm;  the  smiling  dawn, 
Comes  forth  with  dew  bespangl'd  feet ; 
And  bird  and  fowl  on  jewelFd  lawn, 
With  praise  and  song  her  advent  greet. 

No  trace  remains  in  ambient  skies, 
Now  bathed  in  glorious  sapphire  light; 
To  bring  to  mind  the  baleful  cries, 
Of  wailing  phantoms  of  the  night. 

Across  the  hills  in  purple  haze, 

In  air  serene  the  vapors  float; 

And  shepherds  watch  the  magic  maze, 

And  hail  the  song  bird's  rising  note. 

And  many  a  fond  and  glancing  eye, 
That  hailed  with  joy  the  early  dawn, 
Is  turned  in  love  with  heaving  sigh, 
Toward  the  lodge  of  Avalon. 

The  mystic  shepherd  faint  and  pale, 
No  longer  heeds  his  fleecy  care, 
Nor..takes  them  bounding  o'er  the  dale, 
Nor  in  their  gambols  doth  he  share. 

But  given  to  grief,  in  pensive  mood, 
He  muses  in  some  mountain  cave, 
Or  follows  through  the  solitude 
Some  crystal  streamlet's  shallow  wave. 

And  walks  o'er  flowery  meads  alone, 
'Neath  meditation's  witching  spell; 
And  in  his  lodge  of  rough  hewn  stone, 
Prefers  in  solitude  to  dwell. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  71 

Until  the  time  the  Fates  ordain, 
According  to  their  high  decree; 
The  Mystic  Powers  that  obtain, 
Fulfillment  of  his  prophecy. 


III. 

Dark  is  the  night  in  Ilion's  vale, 
For  trembling  Cynthia  sheds  no  ray, 
Nor  twinkling  star  its  lustre  pale, 
On  brave  Avalon's  lonely  way. 

Why  doth  the  shepherd  tempt  the  night, 
A  night  of  wind  and  howling  storm? 
When  mountain  spirits  shriek  delight, 
And  lash  the  lightning  round  his  form? 

Above  the  peaks  the  thunder  tones, 
Of  mighty  Jove  incessant  roll; 
Until  afar  the  distant  moans, 
Re-echo  to  the  nether  pole. 

Avalon's  mission  must  be  grave, 
To  wander  forth  a  night  like  this; 
When  other  souls  on  land  and  wave, 
The  god  of  sleep  their  eyelids  kiss. 

Aye!  tis  Avalon.    Aye!  tis  he, 
The  mystic  shepherd  of  the  glen; 
Who  goeth  forth  in  majesty, 
Although  the  night  be  not  for  men. 

Upon  the  crest  of  yonder  peak, 
Avalon  casts  his  eagle  glance; 
And  in  the  forked  lightning's  streak, 
Beholds  a  tott'ring  form  advance. 


72         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

'Tis  Myra's  sire,  bent  with  years, 
Doom'd  to  return  and  wander  slow, 
To  that  grim  mount  his  conscience  fears, 
For  now  the  sands  of  life  run  low. 

And  mounting  to  the  topmost  stair, 
With  faltering  step  and  visage  pale; 
He  pauses  in  the  ebon  air, 
And  all  his  aged  members  quail. 

"Farewell  ye  vales!  a  long  farewell! 
For  Theon  soon  shall  be  no  more, 
No  more  shall  Grecian  records  tell 
Of  exploits  that  the  gods  adore. 

"No  more" — but  no,  his  accents  fail, 
His  quaking  knees  in  terror  sink, 
While  Evil  spirits  round  him  sail 
And  urge  him  to  the  mountain's  brink. 

Down,  down  in  air  the  darting  form 
Is  lost  beneath  the  peaks  below, 
While  flitting  demons  through  the  storm 
In  hollow  laughter  mock  his  woe. 


IV. 

Long  years  have  passed  since  Myra  died, 
And  on  the  hill  and  in  the  dale; 
The  evening  zephyrs  oft  have  sighed, 
When  shepherds  told  the  grewsome  tale. 

And  on  the  peak  where  Theon  rose, 
To  bid  the  vales  his  last  farewell, 
No  stunted  oak  or  thorn  tree  grows, 
So  Ancient  Grecian  legends  tell. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  73 

The  simple  swains  in  accents  low, 
Obedient  to  a  Mighty  Fate, 
In  measur'd  speech  and  cadence  slow 
And  reverential  tone  relate: 

Of  wondrous  things  that  are  to  be, 
Of  light  beyond  earth's  mortal  sphere; 
In  whose  white  beams  the  prophets  see 
Unmanifested  forms  appear. 

That  no  concealed  thought  or  dream, 
No  AngePs  joy  or  human  sigh; 
Nor  hid  event  in  Cosmic  scheme, 
Escapes  the  range  of  Mystic  Eye. 

And  thus  from  age  to  passing  age, 
Fair  Ilion's  hill  and  flowery  dale; 
Wafts  dulcet  echoes  on  the  sage, 
Who  breathes  the  ever  cherished  tale. 

And  on  a  night  when  tempests  roar, 
And  forky  lightnings  cleave  the  deep; 
And  thunders  roll  on  heaven's  floor, 
And  friendly  stars  no  vigil  keep, 

The  legends  say  Avalon's  grave, 
Is  wrapp'd  about  in  violet  fire; 
While  o'er  the  tomb  bright  spirits  wave 
Responses  to  an  unseen  choir; 

In  memory  of  that  fateful  night, 
The  vales  of  Greece  in  wildest  glee; 
Re-echoed  over  depth  and  height, 
The  mystic  shepherd's  prophecy. 


74  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

The  song  left  Carlo  grave.  He  resumed  his 
former  air  and  gaiety  slowly,  and  the  little  party 
continued  their  walk  through  the  valley. 

After  some  hours  of  delightful  travel  in  the  vale, 
they  returned  to  the  village,  but  before  separating 
for  the  night,  it  was  agreed  that  the  Swiss  singer 
should  accompany  them  again  into  the  wondrous 
region  on  the  following  day. 

The  same  night  a  number  of  troubadours  enter- 
tained the  tourists  at  the  hotel  with  their  singing, 
and  wonderful  Swiss  warbling.  But  to  Anthony 
and  Regina  their  efforts  were  not  to  be  compared  to 
that  of  Carlo's.  There  was  something  about  Carlo's 
singing  that  seemed  to  have  a  haunting  effect  that 
could  not  easily  be  forgotten,  and  Regina  reminded 
Anthony  that  she  was  more  than  pleased  that  he 
had  been  engaged  to  entertain  them  for  another  day. 

Next  morning,  Carlo  and  the  guide  met  them  at 
the  appointed  hour,  and  slowly  the  little  party  again 
wended  its  way  into  the  vale.  On  this  occasion, 
however,  the  guide  chose  a  path  somewhat  different 
than  the  one  they  had  followed  on  the  previous  day, 
so  that  they  beheld  Mount  Blanc  from  another  angle. 

They  chose  a  place  where  they  were  to  rest  for 
some  hours,  and  Carlo  became  very  friendly  while 
the  conversation  was  general  and  animated.  An- 
thony remarked  that  the  troubadour  was  gay  and 
careless  to  an  extreme  degree. 

"Really,"  he  said  addressing  Carlo,  "I  have  never 
seen  a  youth  so  impetuous  and  happy.  There  must 
be  a  reason  for  your  carelessness  of  mien  and 
abandon  of  manner.  It  seems  as  if  the  whole  world 
was  yours  and  you  never  would  have  any  anxieties 
for  the  future." 

"No,"  smilingly  replied  the  troubadour,  "anxie- 
ties never  come  to  me.  I  live  my  life  in  the  eternal 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  75 

Now.  While  it  is  true  I  am  poor  in  purse,  yet  I  am 
rich  in  other  things — a  happy  spirit  and  a  contented 
mind.  What  care  I  for  worldly  possessions?  Are 
not  the  mountains,  the  sky  and  the  clouds  mine?" 

As  Carlo  continued  his  remarks,  he  commenced 
to  place  his  harp  in  a  secure  position  and  advised  his 
patrons  that  he  was  ready  to  begin  his  song. 

Then  standing  erect  before  his  beloved  instru- 
ment, he  looked  up  toward  the  mountain  and  seemed 
for  some  moments  lost  in  abstraction.  With  his 
long  flaxen  hair  streaming  over  his  shoulders  in  the 
gentle  breeze,  and  the  ideal  expression  displayed  in 
his  clear  cut  features  he  seemed  to  Anthony  to  be 
an  embodiment  of  Orpheus. 

For  a  moment  the  young  minstrel  toyed  with 
the  quivering  strings  of  his  harp.  Then  his  eyes 
beamed  more  brightly  and  to  the  accompaniment  of 
his  simple  melody,  he  sang  the  opening  stanzas  of 
his  song  which  he  called: 


AN  INVOCATION  TO  THE  MUSE. 

Transcendent  Spirit  of  the  Upper  Sphere! 
Illumined  Being  of  Unchanging  Time! 
Immortal  Giver  of  the  Sacred  rhyme, 
That  charms  the  poet  and  the  holy  seer; 
Descend,  descend  from  thy  Celestial  throne, 
And  for  a  time  thy  humble  suppliant  own; 
Brush  from  his  pallid  cheek  the  coursing  tear; 
Renew  in  him  thy  mystic  Grace  Divine; 
Thou  who  inspirest  the  Almighty  Line 
Of  those  immortal  singers,  who  have  grown 
Far  past  the  heighth  of  poets;  and  assign 
Thy  bard  some  simple  labor,  and  design 


76          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

The  structure  of  the  stanzas  to  appear 

In  some  beguiling  melody  so  fine, 

That  they  compel  reception  from  the  ear. 

Nor  to  the  ear  alone  should  they  impart, 

The  potent  charm  and  magic  of  the  Muse; 

But  with  the  sacred  influence  of  art, 

Perforce  the  homely  lines  may  blend — transfuse ; 

And  make  a  vibrant  music  on  the  air, 

In  such  a  simple  harmony  of  sound, 

That  it  might  lift  the  bane  of  brooding  care; 

Meanwhile  the  harsher  tones  may  perchance  lose 

Their  dissonance,  and  beat  a  finer  part 

In  the  commingled  melody  around; 

And  leave  a  certain  influence,  rebound 

With  minor  strains,  nor  pause  aquiv'ring  there, 

But  reach  some  eye  and  cause  a  tear  to  start, 

And  gliding  on,  no  ban  their  course  impair, 

Until  they  touch  with  soothing  note  the  heart* 


Pausing  for  a  moment  the  troubadour  again 
looked  toward  the  mountain.  Then  with  a  fresh 
inspiration  and  clearly  modulated  voice  he  com- 
menced his  theme  which  he  entitled: 


THE  POET'S  VISION. 

I. 

Once  upon  a  night  of  Summer, 
Weary  of  earth's  constant  woes, 
I  besought  the  god  of  Dreamland, 
To  enwrap  me  in  repose. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  77 

And  a  voice  within  me  whisper'd, 
Do  not  fail  to  ask  the  muse, 
For  her  blessing  and  her  guidance, 
And  the  hope  she  may  infuse. 

Then  obedient  to  the  whisper, 
I  put  all  my  cares  away, 
And  invoking  her  assistance, 
Soon  in  slumber  deep  I  lay. 

And  in  sleep  I  was  transported, 
To  an  Ancient  Grecian  fane; 
Whose  past  glory  n'er  was  equall'd 
Through  the  whole  sad  earth's  domain. 

And  around  the  marble  columns, 
And  along  the  temple's  frieze, 
Were  long  rows  of  marble  statues 
Worthy  of  Praxiteles. 

And  on  wall  and  moonlit  pillar, 

In  Greek  characters  enscrolPd, 

Were  strange  words  of  mystic  meaning, 

Traced  in  ivory  and  in  gold. 

While  I  gazed  in  silent  rapture, 
On  the  consecrated  pile, 
Slowly  there  appeared  a  vision, 
All  my  senses  to  beguile. 

There  upon  a  marble  dais, 
Standing  on  the  topmost  stair, 
I  beheld  an  aged  poet, 
With  the  laurel  round  his  hair. 


78  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

'Though  he  spoke  no  word  of  comfort, 
And  maintain'd  a  solemn  mien, 
Yet  I  thought  he  shed  a  glory 
In  the  moonlight's  mellow  sheen. 

And  he  bade  me  read  a  stanza, 
That  shone  out  in  magic  light, 
From  the  facade  of  the  temple, 
Far  into  the  Grecian  night. 

And  I  gazed  where  he  directed; 
With  awaken'd  eye  of  Soul, 
And  beheld  the  fiery  stanza 
Bounded  by  a  violet  scroll. 

And  the  words  that  formed  the  stanza, 
While  not  symbols  of  command; 
Though  they  were  of  wondrous  meaning, 
Were  not  hard  to  understand: 

Evermore  the  constant  sorrow, 
Evermore  the  constant  moan; 
Evermore  the  Soul  would  follow, 
Some  false  pleasure  not  its  own. 

While  I  read  the  heavenly  message, 
Wavering  with  its  tongues  of  light, 
I  beheld  another  marvel 
In  the  phantom  haunted  night. 

For  the  poet  made  a  gesture — 
Made  a  gesture  with  his  hand, 
And  the  statues  on  the  temple 
In  accord  with  his  command, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  79 

Took  on  life  and  flesh  and  color, 
Made  obesiance  one  by  one; 
And  then  sang  the  mystic  stanza 
All  in  mournful  unison. 

Evermore  the  constant  sorrow, 
Evermore  the  constant  moan; 
Evermore  the  Soul  would  follow, 
Some  false  pleasure  not  its  own.  ' 

Then  the  glorious  vision  faded 
Into  space,  and  drew  away 
Into  realms  of  the  memory, 
There  to  hold  perpetual  sway. 


II. 

Then  I  left  the  world  of  fancy, 
And  beheld  another  morn; 
And  I  heard  the  quail  and  plover, 
Heard  the  hunter  sound  his  horn. 

Though  all  Nature  smiled  as  ever, 
With  a  visage  glad  and  gay, 
To  my  fancy  she  was  garish, 
All  unfriendly,  cold  and  gray. 

And  I  wander'd  on  unmindful, 
Through  the  glen  and  through  the  glade; 
And  at  eve  I  met  a  recluse, 
'Neath  an  oak  tree's  friendly  shade. 

And  he  spoke  to  me  of  marvels — 
Of  Creation's  hidden  laws, 
Of  the  punishment  of  actions 
Which  the  guilty  conscience  draws. 


80          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

That  the  world  is  but  a  picture 
Of  the  inner  heart  of  man, 
And  portrays  the  sum  of  motives 
Which  his  earthly  passions  fan. 

That  all  progress  and  achievement, 
That  ignores  the  growing  soul, 
Will  n'er  banish  human  sorrow, 
Long  as  endless  ages  roll. 

That  to  love  the  world  of  pleasure, 
Is  to  love  the  world  of  sense, 
And  deny  Eternal  Glory, 
In  the  heavenly  recompense. 

Where  the  ideal  is  so  glorious, 
And  the  concept  so  Divine, 
That  the  poet,  saint  and  prophet 
Wonder  at  the  Great  Design. 

While  I  marvelFd  at  his  discourse, 
Slowly  o'er  his  aged  face, 
I  was  aided  by  the  memory 
Some  familiar  lines  to  trace. 

And  forthwith  in  joy  acclaim'd  him 
And  the  bard  of  solemn  mien, 
Who  adorned  the  Grecian  temple, 
In  the  moonlight's  mellow  sheen. 

And  I  thanked  the  aged  poet, 
And  I  clasped  his  blessed  knees, 
And  I  saw  a  heavenly  radiance 
Slow  descending  through  the  trees. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  81 

And  he  said,  "Behold  the  vision, 
Which  my  Master  from  on  High, 
Ever  sends  the  worthy  poet, 
To  reward  his  grateful  eye." 

And  I  gazed  where  he  directed, 
With  awaken'd  eye  of  Soul, 
And  beheld  the  fiery  stanza, 
Bounded  by  a  violet  scroll, 

Slowly  falling  through  the  branches 
And  the  intertwining  leaves, 
Till  it  rested  in  its  glory 
On  the  aged  poet's  knees. 

Evermore  the  constant  sorrow, 
Evermore  the  constant  moan; 
Evermore  the  Soul  would  follow, 
Some  false  pleasure  not  it  own. 


III. 

Now  the  import  of  the  vision, 
I  will  never,  never  lose, 
For  it  is  the  loving  favor, 
Of  my  laurel  bearing  muse. 

Thus  she  brings  a  mystic  comfort, 
And  my  years  shall  never  fail, 
For  when  doubt  my  faith  would  darken, 
I  relate  the  wondrous  tale. 

Thus  the  voice  of  men  and  worldings 
Are  alike  by  me  abhorr'd, 
And  when  Evil  Powers  tempt  me, 
I  repeat  her  mystic  word: 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Evermore  the  constant  sorrow, 
Evermore  the  constant  moan; 
Evermore  the  soul  would  follow, 
Some  false  pleasure  not  its  own. 


Carlo  had  hardly  finished  his  recital  when  the 
guide  informed  Anthony  and  Regina  that  a  storm 
was  approaching  and  they  must  at  once  return  to 
the  village.  Accordingly  the  little  group  walked 
briskly  out  of  the  vale  and  reached  the  hotel  as  the 
first  rain  drops  fell. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  the  young  man  and 
wife  had  the  opportunity  of  observing  a  commotion 
of  the  elements  on  so  grand  a  scale.  A  storm  in  the 
Vale  of  Chamouni  with  its  attendant  lightning  and 
the  reverberation  of  its  thunder,  is  to  the  visiting 
tourist  an  event  always  to  be  remembered.  And  it 
was  with  a  feeling  of  awe  that  our  young  couple 
watched  its  progress,  as  it  swept  onward  through 
the  valley  in  its  awful  sublimity  and  grandeur. 

On  the  following  morning  when  they  went  forth 
into  the  mountains  with  the  guide,  Carlo  again 
joined  them.  The  Swiss  troubadour  by  his  graceful 
manner  had  completely  won  their  friendship,  and 
during  the  rest  of  their  short  stay  in  Chamouni,  he 
was  with  them  daily,  entertaining  them  with  his 
quaint  stories  and  the  melody  of  his  song. 

A  week  later  preparations  were  made  to  leave 
the  valley;  though  it  was  with  great  regret  that 
Anthony  and  Regina  bade  good-bye  to  the  flaxen 
haired  singer  and  travelled  on  eastward  into  Swit- 
zerland. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Meeting  With  Herminio. 

Where  shepherds  haunt  would  I  be  seen, 
And  rest  me  in  oases  green; 
No  pathway  would  I  leave  untraced 
To  the  city  from  the  waste. 

— Goethe. 

Nine  days  had  now  passed  since  the  two  trav- 
ellers had  left  the  Vale  of  Chamouni,  and  directed 
their  course  eastward. 

Particularly  impressed  by  the  wild  grandeur  of 
the  region  that  environed  the  little  village  of  Bergun, 
they  decided  to  stop  there  for  some  time.  When 
they  set  out  the  next  morning  Anthony  said  they 
would  vary  the  program,  which  up  till  then  had 
been  characteristic  of  each  day.  "Heretofore,"  he 
said,  "we  have  been  constantly  in  the  company  of 
the  guide.  To  day  we  will  travel  independently. 
The  ascent  to  this  mountain  is  gradual.  No  climb- 
ing being  necessary,  we  have  no  danger  to  fear." 

For  some  time  the  young  couple  went  on  in 
silence.  The  wild  beauty  of  the  region,  together 
with  the  magic  stillness  brooding  over  it,  assured 
them  that  in  all  probability  no  human  footsteps 
had  ever  before  awakened  an  echo  in  its  solitudes. 
As  they  reached  the  summit,  they  noticed  it  was 
partly  hidden  by  a  small  growth  of  trees.  As  they 
passed  through  this  little  grove,  Regina,  who  was 
slightly  in  advance  gave  a  cry  of  surprise.  Directly 


84-          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

before  them  they  saw  a  small  hut  which  was  built 
partly  of  stone  and  partly  of  timber,  the  roof  of 
which  was  kept  in  place  by  heavy  stones  and  boul- 
ders. Expressing  surprise  at  this  curiously  con- 
structed ..house,  Anthony  ..and  Regina  exchanged 
glances  of  amazement.  Had  the  hut  appeared  to 
them  suddenly  out  of  the  sky,  they  would  have  been 
no  more  alarmed  at  so  sudden  a  vision.  As  they 
gazed  in  wonder,  the  door  opened  and  an  old  man 
stepped  over  the  threshhold  and  out  into  the  in- 
closure  that  surrounded  the  hut.  A  long  white 
beard  covered  his  chest,  and  fell  nearly  to  his  waist. 
His  white  hair  rested  in  curls  upon  his  neck  and 
shoulders,  while  from  his  pale  blue  eyes  there 
gleamed  a  light  that  rested  on  Anthony,  like  a 
benediction.  Advancing  toward  the  young  people 
he  extended  his  hand  to  Anthony,  who  clasped  it 
timorously. 

"My  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "I  welcome  you  to 
these  solitudes." 

"I  am  Anthony  Colombo,"  said  Anthony  bowing 
in  answer,  "and  this  lady  is  my  wife.  We  are  from 
Sicily." 

"My  name  is  Herminio,"  replied  the  recluse.  "I 
call  you  son;  but  I  take  that  privilege  on  account  of 
the  great  difference  in  our  ages." 

"Yes,"  replied  Anthony.  "I  always  respect  age, 
for  it  is  ripe  in  experience." 

"I  like  your  answer.  It  shows  a  maturity  of 
thought,  which  the  majority  of  young  men  at  your 
time  of  life,  fail  to  exhibit." 

"I  thank  you  for  the  compliment.  But  I  did  not 
think  I  could  express  ideas  now  that  would  reveal 
maturity  of  thought.  My  wife  and  I  were  married 
some  few  months  ago.  We  are  now  on  our  honey- 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  85 

"I  am  always  interested  in  young  people,"  con- 
tinued Herminio.  "Will  you  not  come  into  the 
hermitage?" 

As  Anthony  and  his  wife  entered  the  hut,  they 
were  struck  with  the  plainness  of  the  surroundings. 
A  table,  three  chairs  and  a  couch  completed  the  list 
of  furniture  which  the  single  room  contained.  At 
one  end  of  the  room  there  was  a  fireplace  on  the 
stones  of  which  a  fire  was  dimly  burning. 

"Pray  be  seated,"  said  the  sage,  "for  after  the 
long  walk  up  this  mountain,  you  and  your  wife,  are 
no  doubt  fatigued." 

As  Anthony  seated  himself,  he  noticed  that  the 
chairs  were  of  an  ancient  pattern.  He  was  about 
to  ask  Herminio  where,  and  how  he  had  procured 
them,  when  Regina  interrupted  him  with  a  question. 

"Have  you  always  lived  here  alone?" 

"Yes,  and  always  alone.  For  many  years  this 
has  been  my  home.  Although  I  live  in  solitude,  I 
am  never  lonely.  The  little  village  of  Bergun  is 
three  miles  distant.  During  the  summer  months,  I 
sometimes  go  there  to  meet  neighbors  and  friends, 
returning  at  sundown,  since  I  am  never  away  from 
my  home  after  that  hour." 

"Have  you  no  family  or  relatives?"  inquired 
Anthony. 

"No.  I  was  never  married,"  replied  the  sage. 
I  have  relatives  but  they  are  not  in  this  part  of  the 
world." 

"I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  how  you  occupy  your 
time  here?"  said  Anthony.  "Alone  in  these  soli- 
tudes, it  seems  the  monotony  would  drive  you  to 
madness.  Then,  too,  you  are  very  old,  and  that  is 
another  reason  why  you  should  not  be  alone." 

"Yes,  I  am  eighty-five,"  replied  Herminio,  "but 
loneliness  is  a  condition  that  never  gives  me  any 


86  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

concern;  for  I  am  never  affected  by  it.  I  am  aware 
that  most  persons  are  in  fearful  torment  if  left  to 
themselves  for  even  a  short  space  of  time.  But 
that  is  because  they  live  in  sensations  and  not  in 
thought." 

Anthony  paused;  for  with  all  his  philosophy,  he 
could  not  have  given  such  an  answer. 

"So  those  who  live  in  thought  are  not  affected 
by  loneliness?"  he  finally  asked. 

"No,  for  they  lose  the  desire  for  physical  sensa- 
tions. Now  I  have  lived  a  long  life  and  during  all 
my  career,  I  have  never  known  what  loneliness  is. 
Now  I  do  not  shun  humanity,  for  I  love  it.  Yet  I 
am  in  a  way,  independent  of  my  fellow  men,  from 
the  fact  that  I  do  not  go  to  them  for  physical  sensa- 
tions. Drawing  my  life  from  the  World  of  Ideas, 
I  feed  on  the  substance  and  not  on  the  shadow." 

"That  is  a  most  wonderful  truth,  and  I  would 
judge  from  your  statement,  that  you  are  a  follower 
of  Plato." 

"Not  entirely.  For  no  philosopher  however 
great,  has  known  all  of  the  truth." 

From  the  answer  that  Herminio  had  given  him, 
Anthony  knew  he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  man  of 
high  attainments  and  most  marvellous  intuitions. 
Why  he  chose  to  live  alone  in  this  wilderness,  amid 
the  solitudes  of  nature,  was  a  question  that  most 
perplexed  him.  He  knew  that  the  saints  and  an- 
chorites of  Old,  had  often  fled  to  the  desert  to  lead 
there  a  life  of  holiness  and  seclusion.  But  this  man 
did  not  appear  in  the  capacity  of  a  saint.  He  seemed 
rather  to  be  a  learned  recluse.  Furthermore  there 
was  another  phenomenon  connected  with  the  visit 
to  this  strange  old  man,  so  different  from  anything 
that  Anthony  had  yet  experienced.  Heretofore, 
whenever  his  ideas  did  not  coincide  with  the  views 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  87 

of  another,  he  could  always  argue  the  point.  But 
to  the  answers  of  the  old  sage,  he  could  raise  no 
question.  Whenever  Herminio  made  a  statement, 
it  was  final.  Try  as  he  would,  he  was  unable  to 
bring  any  objection  against  it.  The  knowledge 
spoken  by  the  old  scholar  or  recluse,  whatever  it 
might  be,  seemed  to  possess  an  absolute  quality. 
Before  this  strange  old  man  of  the  mountains  An- 
thony was  a  mere  child,  and  his  speech  was  nothing 
more  than  the  lisping  of  an  infant.  Although  he 
felt  his  inability  to  cope  with  him  at  all,  the  presence 
of  the  sage  inspired  him  with  a  feeling  of  complete 
rest  and  peace.  The  atmosphere  of  the  little  her- 
mitage rested  on  him  like  a  benediction,  making  his 
mind  perfectly  calm  and  tranquil.  So  great  was 
this  tranquillity,  that  it  even  surpassed  that  glow  of 
rapture,  he  had  felt  on  so  many  occasions  when  the 
great  truths  of  religion  were  explained  by  the  most 
able  expounders  of  the  Faith,  from  the  chalice 
shaped  marble  pulpit  in  the  Cathedral  at  Messina. 

Truly,  this  man  was  a  marvel.  While  his  body 
was  old,  his  mind  was  young,  and  there  was  a 
grace  and  poise  in  his  actions  showing  that  his 
emotions  were  under  strict  control.  Anthony  felt 
that  any  questions  he  might  ask  him,  had  better  be 
well  framed  beforehand.  So  with  this  thought  in 
mind,  he  resumed  the  conversation. 

"I  am  a  very  young  man,"  he  said.  "Just  enter- 
ing the  world,  I  know  I  have  to  learn  the  larger 
lesson  of  life." 

Herminio  smiled,  and  looking  on  his  pupil  from 
the  very  depths  of  his  light  blue  eyes,  answered: 

"Yes,  you  must  have  your  experience.  The  only 
assurance  we  have  that  we  are  playing  our  part 
well,  is  when  we  know  our  actions  are  prompted  by 
a  genuine  sincerity." 


88          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Again  Anthony  paused.  The  old  sage  had  given 
out  another  great  truth.  Seeing  the  embarrassment 
of  his  pupil,  Herminio  continued: 

"No  two  beings  in  the  whole  world,"  he  declared, 
"have  the  same  experience;  for  soul  experiences  are 
as  numberless  and  varied  as  the  leaves  in  the  forest. 
In  my  youth,  I  was  most  fortunate  in  being  a  lover 
of  nature.  My  father  was  a  shepherd,  and  in  that 
humble  calling,  I  delighted  to  share.  Living  in 
Thessaly  not  far  from  the  Vale  of  Tempe,  the  days 
of  my  childhood  and  youth,  were  spent  in  that  cele- 
brated region  of  enchantment,  hallowed  by  the 
memories  and  legends  of  Old  Greece.  How  well  I 
remember  the  many  mornings  when  my  sheep  going 
before  me,  bounded  exultingly  across  the  crystal 
streams,  to  the  place  of  pasturage  my  father  had 
allotted  to  them.  Even  now,  after  all  these  years, 
my  love  for  the  shepherd's  life  is  so  great,  that  I 
have  a  small  number  of  sheep  and  goats  that  I  tend, 
in  memory  of  that  happy  time." 

"And  who  gave  you  the  rudiments  of  your  edu- 
cation?" 

"My  mother,"  replied  the  sage.  "She  spoke  both 
Greek  and  French,  and  it  was  under  her  tutelage 
that  I  gained  so  good  a  knowledge  of  the  French 
language.  I  remained  at  home  till  my  thirtieth 
year,  when  my  parents  departed  this  life.  With  my 
little  patrimony  I  sought  refuge  in  the  mountains 
of  this  country  and  have  lived  here  ever  since." 

"Then  you  have  lived  here  fifty-five  years!  Have 
you  spent  all  that  time  in  this  hermitage?" 

"Yes.  I  have  never  lived  under  any  other  roof. 
I  dislike  change,  and  when  I  selected  this  place,  it 
was  with  the  intention  of  remaining  here  the  rest 
of  my  life." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  89 

"But  pray,  tell  me  how  you  spend  the  time  dur- 
ing the  long  winter  evenings?"  asked  Anthony. 

"The  most  of  it  is  spent  in  reading  and  medita- 
tion. You  have  not  yet  seen  my  books;  let  me  show 
them  to  you." 

Herminio  rose  and  going  to  the  wall  near  one 
of  the  square  windows  he  drew  aside  a  piece  of 
sheep  skin  which  curtained  a  small  shelf,  displaying 
a  number  of  volumes  handsomely  bound  in  padded 
leather.  Noticing  the  surprise  of  Anthony,  he  smil- 
ingly continued: 

"You  will  find  here  some  works  with  which  you 
are  already  familiar.  Here  are  Homer,  Plato,  Xeno- 
phon,  and  the  plays  of  Euripides  in  the  original 
Greek,  and  here  is  your  Virgil,  whom  you  so  dearly 
love." 

Anthony  had  always  had  a  special  love  for  Vir- 
gil, and  turning  the  leaves  of  the  volume  till  he 
found  "The  Georgics,"  he  pointed  out  to  Herminio 
the  passages  that  appealed  most  to  him. 

"The  Latin  poet  must  have  been  a  lover  of  agri- 
culture," he  said ;  "for  he  describes  the  humble  work 
of  the  husbandman  and  the  beauties  of  his  environ- 
ment in  such  graceful  numbers,  that  one  imagines 
in  reading  him  that  he  is  transported  to  sylvan 
scenes  and  lives  among  the  bees  and  flowers." 

"It  is  so  with  every  great,  true  work,"  replied 
the  sage.  "If  it  is  done  in  all  sincerity,  the  result 
is  not  only  pleasing  to  the  author,  but  in  time  it  will 
affect  others.  What  the  writer  feels  and  thinks 
exists  subjectively.  It  is  his  mission  to  give  it  an 
objective  reality." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  a  writer  or  inventor 
is  not  the  creator  of  his  own  wrork?" 

"Yes,  that  is  my  meaning.  There  is  nothing 
created.  Everything  exists  subjectively  in  an 


90  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

eternal  world  of  ideas.  Plato  is  right.  There  is 
nothing  new  in  the  universe.  All  that  is,  once  was, 
and  all  that  was,  will  again  be." 

Anthony  made  no  answer.  In  his  inmost  being 
he  felt  the  great  truth  which  the  sage  had  uttered. 

"For  what  purpose,  then  does  man  exist?" 

"To  bring  forth  into  the  objective  world,  that 
which  already  exists  in  the  Realm  of  Consciousness 
as  Ideals.  There  is  a  thought  world.  To  so  co- 
operate with  the  law,  that  the  ideas  of  this  invisible 
world  becomes  a  part  of  his  consciousness,  is  the 
aim  of  the  real  man." 

"But  I  infer,"  said  Anthony,  "that  a  man  would 
have  to  be  a  philosopher  to  do  that,  and  since  the 
most  of  us  are  ordinary  men,  we  must  indeed  fall 
far  short  of  so  sublime  an  ideal." 

"No,  that  is  not  the  meaning,"  said  the  sage. 
"Take  your  own  case  for  an  example.  You  loved 
knowledge  for  itself,  and  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge 
you  experienced  a  certain  degree  of  happiness  and 
pleasure.  Later  on,  you  met  this  young  woman  and 
loved  her.  Now  your  love  for  her  was  under  law. 
You  were  fated  to  meet  and  to  unite,  so  whatever 
experiences  come  to  you  as  the  result  of  this  union, 
will  put  you  further  on  the  path  of  knowledge." 

"And  the  only  assurance  we  have,"  rejoined 
Anthony,  "that  we  are  co-operating  with  this  law, 
is  when  our  actions,  as  you  said  before,  are  prompted 
by  a  genuine  sincerity." 

"Yes,"  replied  Herminio,  "that  is  the  only  condi- 
tion that  justifies  us  in  doing  anything  at  all.  It  is 
from  this  standpoint,  and  this  standpoint  only,  that 
the  real  man  acts." 

Precisely  so.  In  the  present  age,  however,  the 
great  majority  of  men  imagine  they  will  find  hap- 
piness and  success  through  deception." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  91 

"And  therein  they  make  a  most  fatal  mistake," 
replied  the  seer.  "Believing  the  material  world  to 
be  the  only  reality,  they  pin  their  faith  to  it  alone; 
but  when  the  prizes  of  that  world  turn  to  ashes  in 
their  hands,  they  become  miserable  indeed,  yet  in 
their  blindness  know  not  the  real  cause  of  their 
misfortune." 

"What  you  say  is  all  very  true,  and  I  would  like 
to  talk  with  you  further  on  these  subjects;  but  it 
is  now  within  a  few  hours  of  sundown,  and  we  must 
be  back  to  the  village  at  sunset." 

"Could  you  not  remain  in  your  present  quarters 
another  day?"  asked  the  sage,  "you  could  then 
make  me  a  visit  tomorrow." 

"I  will  be  pleased  to  do  so,"  replied  Anthony. 
"You  may  expect  me  tomorrow  about  two  hours  be- 
fore noon." 

Promising  Herminio  that  he  would  visit  him  on 
the  morrow,  the  young  man  and  his  wife  started 
down  the  long  incline  of  the  mountain  that  led  to 
the  village.  Standing  in  the  door  of  the  hermitage 
the  seer  looked  after  them  longingly  and  lovingly. 

"My  son  has  come,"  he  said,  "as  I  knew  he 
would  come;  filled  with  a  sense  of  his  seeming  vir- 
tues, and  all  unconscious  of  the  awakening  which  a 
few  short  years  will  bring.  It  is  ever  thus.  In  the 
initial  stages  of  his  higher  evolution,  man  is  still 
unaware  of  the  future.  Nature,  the  kind  mother, 
veils  from  him  the  heartaches  and  the  sorrows, 
which  he  is  to  endure,  in  order  that  he  may  trans- 
mute his  forces  and  long  for  liberation.  My  son  has 
sought  knowledge  of  the  physical  world.  In  that 
he  is  well  versed.  But  when  he  longs  for  knowledge 
of  the  spirit  and  the  Invisible  forces  respond,  it  will 
be  my  privilege  to  aid  him  in  the  hour  of  his  trial." 


92  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

That  evening  the  central  theme  of  the  conversa- 
tion of  Anthony  and  Regina  was  the  old  sage  of  the 
mountains.  The  circumstances  under  which  they 
had  met  him — his  great  age  and  peculiar  character, 
stamped  him  as  a  man  of  mystery.  Heretofore  on 
other  occasions,  they  had  regarded  other  persons 
whom  they  met,  in  an  ordinary  way;  but  this  old 
man  was,  compared  with  other  beings,  a  paradox 
and  an  exception. 

"I  promised  the  old  man  I  would  pay  him  another 
visit,"  said  Anthony,  "for  he  awakened  in  me  an 
interest  I  cannot  define.  While  he  is  affable  to  an 
extreme  degree,  yet  he  bears  a  certain  degree  of 
dignity  that  I  have  never  noticed  in  other  men." 

"Then  by  all  means  see  him  tomorrow.  It  will 
be  your  last  visit,  for  I  overheard  you  tell  the  guide 
that  we  were  to  continue  our  journey  the  day  after 
tomorrow." 

"Yes,  that  is  my  intention.  We  must  press  on. 
Two  months  have  now  been  spent  sojourning  in 
these  mountains.  We  have  enjoyed  the  most  novel 
of  honeymoons  and  it  is  with  regret  that  I  see  it 
approaching  its  end." 

The  next  morning  Anthony  set  out  immediately 
after  breakfast,  and  two  hours  later  reached  the 
hermitage. 

"You  are  early,"  said  Herminio,  as  he  extended 
his  hand  in  welcome,  and  offering  Anthony  a  chair 
bade  his  guest  be  seated. 

"Rest  yourself,"  he  said,  "and  when  you  have 
recovered  from  your  fatigue,  we  will  take  some  re- 
freshment. It  is  well  that  we  attend  to  our  physical 
wants  first,  so  that  if  we  get  deep  in  conversation, 
our  mental  faculties  can  have  full  play." 

Then  making  ready  a  small  table,  the  sage 
brought  forth  milk,  fruit  and  bread.  Anthony  ate 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  93 

with  keen  relish,  the  morning  walk  having  sharp- 
ened his  appetite.  After  the  collation  was  finished, 
Herminio  cleared  the  little  table,  and  seating  him- 
self beside  his  guest,  thus  addressed  him: 

"If  you  remember  your  Homer,  and  no  doubt 
you  do,  you  will  recall  to  mind  that  the  heroes  of 
the  Odyssey,  always  appeased  the  rage  of  hunger 
before  engaging  in  what  they  called  'sweet  con- 
verse.' ' 

"Yes,  it  was  their  custom,  and  we  seem  to  share 
in  their  trait,  having  done  likewise.  Do  you  know 
that  I  some  times  compare  myself  to  the  young 
Telemachus  conversing  here  with  Old  Laertes." 

Herminio  smiled. 

"There  is  a  law  of  harmony,"  he  said,  "that 
brings  kindred  souls  together  in  union.  It  affects 
principally  individuals  who  are  making  the  attempt 
at  Unity  with  the  Self.  Have  you  not  always  been  a 
lover  of  truth?" 

"Yes,  all  my  life,  but  until  recently  I  sought  for 
truth  through  those  channels  that  were  accepted  as 
current  authority.  Lately,  however,  I  have  made 
a  resolution  to  lay  my  mind  open  to  truth,  from 
whatever  source  it  comes." 

"You  are  well  on  the  way  to  knowledge,"  said 
the  seer,  "when  you  make  such  a  resolution.  When 
you  reach  that  stage  of  development  you  long  for 
knowledge  in  itself,  and  not  for  any  material  gain 
that  the  acquisition  of  it  might  bring." 

"True,"  replied  Anthony.  "My  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge has  been  insatiable;  but  up  to  a  very  recent 
time  I  took  my  draughts  from  the  fountains  of 
Authority.  Now  I  have  come  to  believe  that  truth 
can  be  perceived  by  the  pure  soul,  as  easily  as  light 
can  be  cognized  by  the  physical  eye." 


94  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"Yes,"  said  the  seer,  "and  I  am  glad  you  used 
the  word  'pure,'  for  according  to  Heraclitus,  'The 
pure  soul  is  like  a  flash  of  lightning  from  a  cloud,' 
illumining  the  dark  spaces,  making  light,  where  be- 
fore all  was  darkness." 

Anthony  paused.  For  a  time  there  was  silence 
between  the  seer  and  his  pupil,  and  Anthony  seemed 
to  sink  into  a  reverie.  Finally  Herminio  touched 
him  lightly  on  the  arm,  and  looking  at  him  lovingly 
continued : 

"Has  not  your  thirst  for  knowledge  been  pre- 
ceded by  a  purity  of  motive?" 

"Most  assuredly,  and  it  is  for  that  reason  that 
I  now  begin  to  see  Good  in  everything.  In  my  boy- 
hood I  was  much  inclined  to  poetical  composition. 
On  a  certain  occasion  after  I  had  meditated  a  long 
time  on  the  mystery  of  Being,  there  flashed  into  my 
consciousness  a  short  poem,  to  which  I  gave  the 
title— The  River  of  Life.  The  figure  is  old— very 
old,  so  I  do  not  claim  originality  for  the  conception, 
but  the  lines  appealed  so  strongly  and  I  preserved 
the  figure  so  carefully  throughout  the  three  stanzas, 
that  I  wish  to  recite  them  to  you." 

"Proceed,"  said  the  sage.  "I  will  be  pleased  to 
hear  you." 

For  a  time  Anthony  was  silent,  evidently  recall- 
ing the  lines  to  memory  before  he  began  the  recital. 

"Have  you  forgotten  any  part  of  it,"  asked  Her- 
minio. 

"No,  I  have  it  entire.  Folding  his  hands  in  his 
lap,  Anthony  looking  into  the  eyes  of  Herminio,  be- 
gan the  recital: 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  95 

THE  RIVER  OF  LIFE. 

Oh,  the  sunbeams  are  bright 

On  The  River  of  Life, 

At  its  source  in  the  Valley  of  Time! 

But  far  down  the  stream 

The  lights  faintly  gleam, 

As  the  River  flows  on  to  the  sea. 

Here  the  banks  grow  so  dark, 

That  the  swallow  and  lark, 

On  its  shores  seldom  warble  their  Lays; 

While  Hope's  searchlight  gleam, 

Turns  from  the  dark  stream, 

And  is  lost  midst  the  brambles  and  braes. 

Speed  Thee  on  River  bright, 

Greet  the  sunbeams  again, 

Far  beyond  the  dark  moorland  and  lea; 

Each  crystal  drop's  sheen 

Shall  mingle  I  ween, 

In  the  light  of  Eternity's  sea. 

"The  poem,"  said  Herminio,  "is  an  expression 
of  your  real  Self.  It  is  you.  By  the  continual 
aspiration  for  the  higher  things  of  life,  your  soul 
was  attuned  to  receive  the  truths  embodied  in  the 
poem,  from  the  world  of  Eternal  Ideas." 

"I  believe  you  said  yesterday,  that  the  chief  aim 
of  the  real  man,  was  to  get  in  touch  with  this  world 
of  ideas." 

"Yes,  but  there  are  very,  very  few  real  men  in 
the  modern  world  of  today.  Now,  you  are  a  real 
man — a  progressing  soul.  I  do  not  say  this  to  flatter 
you,  for  I  never  deceive.  The  ordinary  man  engaged 


96          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

in  mundane  affairs — in  business,  politics,  and  the 
accumulation  of  wealth,  does  not  know  the  alphabet 
of  life.  This  may  seem  a  hard  saying,  nevertheless, 
it  is  nothing  more  than  the  truth.  Knowing  nothing 
of  the  higher  reaches  of  thought,  they  resort  to 
argument  and  sophistry  to  sustain  and  prove  their 
convictions,  thus  binding  themselves  more  firmly  to 
the  world  of  sense — the  world  of  shadows." 

"Then  where  do  we  find  the  One  Reality?" 

"In  subjective  thought.  When  you  conceived 
your  poem,  your  consciousness  functioned  in  this 
subjective  world.  During  those  moments  you  put 
away  the  things  of  sense,  and  lived  in  the  realm  of 
Ideas.  Your  thought  was  vivid  and  pure.  As  your 
aspirations  become  more  intense,  you  will  live  more 
and  more  in  consciousness,  and  less  and  less  in 
things." 

"Is  there  any  limit  to  this  expansion  of  con- 
sciousness?" 

"No.    It  is  limitless  and  eternal." 

Anthony  bowed  his  head  and  was  silent  for  some 
time,  while  the  sage  watched  keenly  his  every  move- 
ment, and  the  expression  of  his  features. 

"Your  last  statement,"  he  said,  "seems  almost 
too  wonderful  for  belief." 

"Yes,  it  may  seem  so,"  replied  the  sage.  "But 
let  us  take  an  illustration  from  physical  nature. 
You  believe  in  the  infinity  of  space,  do  you  not?" 

"Certainly.  It  is  the  only  conception  I  can  form 
of  it." 

"Very  well.  You  know  it  to  be  limitless  and 
boundless.  Your  mind  cannot  imagine  it  to  be 
bound  in  any  direction.  It  extends  in  all  directions 
and  is  in  itself  an  expression  of  infinity.  Now  since 
everything  is  contained  in  space,  it  follows  that  no 
object  however  large  can  get  outside  its  limits. 
Space,  therefore,  is  one  reality.  We  can  imagine  a 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  97 

time  when  matter,  such  as  we  know  it,  might  pos- 
sibly have  had  no  existence;  but  we  can  by  no  feat 
or  stretch  of  fancy,  ever  imagine  a  time  when  space 
did  not  exist.  Space  then,  is  self-existent.  It  was 
never  created.  Now,  be  prepared  for  the  great  truth 
I  am  about  to  utter:  Consciousness  likewise  is  self- 
existent,  for  like  space,  it  was  never  created.  As 
man  evolves,  his  consciousness  becomes  all  embrac- 
ing, until  it  touches  and  includes  all  the  objects  in 
the  Cosmos,  in  its  ever  widening  reach  for  the  dis- 
tant shores  of  Infinity." 

"Then  a  time  will  come,"  remarked  Anthony, 
"when  the  consciousness  of  man  will  take  on  the 
attributes  of  space,  filling  every  height  and  every 
depth,  till  it  contains  within  its  limits  the  entire 
universe  itself?" 

"Yes,  and  there  are  Beings  even  now,  who  pos- 
sess this  exalted  form  of  consciousness." 

"This  is  a  thing  most  marvellous.  So  marvellous 
in  fact,  that  it  is,  as  I  said  before,  almost  beyond 
belief." 

"Truly  so,"  replied  the  seer,  as  he  fixed  his  blue 
eyes  lovingly  on  his  pupil.  "But  wonderful  as  it  may 
seem,  it  is  only  the  beginning  of  the  marvel.  Man 
is  a  part  of  God — an  extension  of  the  Divine  Con- 
sciousness. A  ray  of  light  from  the  inexhaustible 
source  of  all  light,  eternal,  self-existent  and  uncre- 
ated. As  such,  he  contains  within  himself,  the  germs 
of  all  future  manifestation,  all  progress  and  all 
achievement.  Possessing  the  potentialities  of  a 
God,  his  ultimate  advance  is  from  within.  In  the 
earlier  stages  of  his  evolution,  however,  his  progress 
depends  on  impacts  from  without.  Now  these 
impacts  from  the  physical  world,  play  chiefly 
through  the  emotions,  awakening  man  to  his  rela- 
tion in  the  sense  world.  When  finally,  he  has  had 


98          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

sufficient  experience — all  that  he  can  absorb  and 
assimilate  through  his  emotional  nature,  by  the 
contacting  of  sense  objects,  the  vibrations  and  im- 
pacts from  the  physical  world  recur  with  ever  and 
ever  increasing  violence,  until  the  tortures  become 
so  great  he  can  endure  them  no  longer,  and  to  obtain 
peace  he  is  forced  to  retire  within  himself.  When 
he  at  last  reaches  this  inner  fortress  of  the  soul, 
and  finds  it  impregnable  to  assaults  from  without 
— when  a  sweet  peace  from  the  realm  of  spirit  rests 
on  him  like  a  benediction  and  he  feels  through  his 
expanding  consciousness  his  relation  to  the  universe 
and  to  God,  it  is  then  that  the  great  miracle  occurs." 

"And  what  is  that  miracle?"  asked  Anthony, 
looking  at  the  sage  with  tear  dimmed  eyes. 

"I  cannot  tell  you.  That  is,  I  am  not  permitted 
to  tell  you  now.  But  at  a  later  time  you  will  know." 

There  was  silence  within  the  hermitage,  broken 
only  by  the  flapping  of  the  piece  of  sheep  skin,  that 
curtained  the  little  book  shelf  on  the  wall.  The 
morning  had  well  advanced  and  the  sun  nearing  the 
meridian,  flooded  the  valley  with  light.  Anthony 
looking  pensively  out  of  the  small  window,  saw  sev- 
eral wild  goats  sporting  on  high  ledges  of  rock  which 
no  man  would  ever  attempt  to  scale.  Far  above  in 
the  blue  ether,  he  beheld  two  eagles,  making  with 
motionless  outstretched  wings,  long  graceful  sweeps 
and  curves  around  their  rocky  eyrie.  Were  he  alone, 
Anthony  would  have  continued  his  reverie  indefi- 
nitely, but  suddenly  recalling  himself  he  turned  and 
addressed  the  seer. 

"You  are,"  he  said,  "to  me  a  mystery.  You 
speak  in  riddles  and  in  enigmas.  Why  do  you  not 
make  your  statements  direct?" 

"Because  if  I  did  you  would  not  understand  me," 
answered  the  sage,  "so  it  is  well  that  I  speak  thus. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  99 

All  I  can  do  is  to  awaken  your  interest  by  hints  and 
suggestions,  and  at  the  same  time  point  out  to  you, 
the  paradoxical  nature  of  truth." 

"In  that  you  have  done  well.  Your  system 
though  new  to  me,  makes  a  strong  appeal.  If  true, 
it  must  be  all  embracing ;  and  must  contain  the 
essentials  of  all  religions  and  all  philosophies." 

"Indeed  yes,"  replied  the  old  man.  "We  have 
talked  of  God,  of  Infinity,  of  consciousness  and  of 
space.  Referring  to  matter,  what  is  your  idea  as 
to  the  divisibility  of  the  elementary  substances,  ac- 
cording to  modern  chemistry?" 

"The  current  authorities,"  replied  the  young 
man,  "have  given  us  the  atom  as  the  smallest  par- 
ticle of  matter  that  can  exist  in  a  free  state.  Very 
recently,  however,  they  claim  to  have  broken  up 
the  atom  into  electrons  and  here  their  case  rests." 

"Yes.  But  the  electrons  can  in  turn  be  again 
subdivided." 

"Is  there  no  end  to  this  process  of  divisibility?" 

"No,"  replied  the  seer.  "The  process  is  endless. 
We  have  been  speculating  on  the  infinite.  Now  we 
are  considering  the  infinitesimal.  Before  going  fur- 
ther I  will  say  that  you  can  no  more  imagine  a  limit 
to  the  divisibility  of  matter,  than  you  can  think 
of  a  boundary  to  space.  Therefore  in  your  present 
form  of  consciousness  you  occupy  a  position  between 
the  Infinite  and  Infinitesimal,  yet  having  no  true 
conception  of  either." 

"But  from  what  you  said  before,  I  gather  that 
as  man  advances,  these  mysteries  are  made  clear." 

"Yes." 

"Then  a  time  v/ill  come  when  he  will  possess 
knowledge  in  the  absolute?" 


100        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"Most  certainly.  At  present  man's  knowledge 
of  himself,  the  world  and  the  universe,  is  only  rela- 
tive. This  is  because  he  functions  entirely  in  the 
sense  world.  He  seeks  to  awaken  sensations  by  the 
things  outside  of  himself.  Always  fond  of  novelty, 
excitement  and  pleasures,  he  flits  from  object  to 
object  in  vain  pursuit  of  that  happiness,  which 
always  eludes  him.  How  different  the  conditions  of 
those  noble  souls,  who  having  caught  a  glimpse  of 
that  bright  reality,  so  well  depicted  by  Socrates,  in 
his  parable  of  'The  Cave,'  have  renounced  the  objects 
of  the  shadow  world,  to  experience  bliss  ineffable  in 
the  Realm  of  Eternal  Ideas.  The  saints  and  an- 
chorites of  the  early  centuries  knew  well  the  condi- 
tions that  must  surround  the  expanding  conscious- 
ness, in  its  reach  after  the  ultimate  reality.  Hence 
their  flight  into  the  desert,  far  from  the  haunts  of 
men.  The  sands  of  the  Thebaid  in  Egypt,  have 
sheltered  many  souls  whose  aspirations  were  so 
pure  and  high,  that  they  were  accorded  glimpses  of 
the  Beatific  Vision  even  in  this  life." 

"You  say,"  interposed  Anthony,  "that  when  man 
reaches  certain  high  stages  of  spirituality,  he  comes 
into  possession  of  absolute  knowledge.  Now  will 
you  tell  me  the  first  marks  of  spiritual  aspiration — 
the  first  evidence  of  the  soul's  call  for  knowledge?" 
Yes  that  much  I  can  tell  you;  now  the  first  test 
that  is  demanded  of  the  man,  who  has  made  this 
call,  is  the  conquering  of  the  emotions.  This,  the 
ordinary  man  of  the  world  is  unable  to  do.  His 
failure  to  do  it,  remands  him  to  the  ranks  of  our 
common  humanity.  He  is  one  of  that  great  number 
of  the  earth's  denizens,  who  are  swayed  and  con- 
trolled by  impacts  from  the  physical  world  playing 
through  the  avenues  of  these  same  emotions.  On 
the  other  hand,  however,  the  man  who  passes  this 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE' 

Herculean  test,  not  only  conquers  all  human  emo- 
tions, but  transmutes  them  into  spiritual  forces  of 
enormous  power.  A  few  of  our  greatest  poets  and 
philosophers,  have  stood  this  test  and  gained  the 
Divine  felicity,  while  a  great  number  come  from  the 
ranks  of  humbler  souls,  who,  led  more  by  intuition 
than  by  intellect,  longed  for  this  knowledge  of  the 
spirit,  and  reached  the  bliss  ineffable.  I  have  said 
that  only  a  few  of  the  greatest  poets  and  philoso- 
phers have  reached  the  Divine  ecstasy.  This  is 
because  the  domain  of  intellect,  to  which  they  be- 
long, is  governed  by  pride,  and  pride  must  first  be 
conquered,  before  the  call  for  knowledge  can  be 
made.  Now  the  humbler  souls  who  live  in  the  realm 
of  the  intuition  led  by  humility,  are  the  flower  of 
the  race — the  Buddhist  Monk,  the  Christian  Saint 
and  the  Catholic  Nun  are  all  illuminated  by  this 
light  of  the  spirit.  Having  conquered  the  emotions 
that  sway  common  humanity,  they  have  risen  be- 
yond the  vibrations  of  the  sense  world,  and  it  no 
longer  exercises  its  tyrrany  over  them." 

"Then  the  first  requisite  on  the  path  to  knowl- 
edge is  the  conquering  of  the  emotions?" 

"Yes,  but  this  task,  gigantic  as  it  is,  is  not  alone 
sufficient.  Granting  that  the  aspirant  for  knowl- 
edge, is  given  the  strength  to  break  the  physical 
barriers,  that  separate  him  from  eternal  life,  he 
must  nevertheless,  witness  the  bleeding  of  his  own 
heart,  while  passing  through  the  fiery  ordeal. 
Having  made  the  call  for  knowledge,  he  has  been 
weighed  in  the  balance  and  not  found  wanting. 
Then  it  is  that  the  Purgatorial  fires  are  lighted,  so 
the  dross  in  his  nature  may  be  burned  away.  On 
the  altar  of  knowledge,  he  has  made  a  willing  sac- 
rifice of  his  heart  and  his  emotions.  He  has  invited 
the  trial  and  it  has  been  put  upon  him.  Alone  and 


102        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

unassisted  by  any  human  power,  he  is  now  called 
upon  to  witness  the  transmutation  of  his  own  emo- 
tions, by  the  fervent  heat  of  the  Purgatorial  flames. 
His  poor  human  heart,  which  has  been  the  seat  of 
these  emotions  and  the  link  that  bound  him  to  the 
common  humanity,  is  being  slowly  but  surely  puri- 
fied by  the  fire  of  suffering.  As  the  blood  oozes 
from  it  drop  by  drop,  the  man  writhes  in  agony, 
wondering  when  the  torture  will  end.  Gladly  would 
he  go  back  to  the  sense  world — his  world  of  illusions 
— had  he  the  power  to  do  so,  but  in  this  he  is  pre- 
vented, for  he  has  made  his  choice  and  must  abide 
by  it.  Again  and  again  he  fixes  his  thought  on  the 
objective  world,  and  blames  himself  for  being  so 
foolish  as  to  leave  its  confines.  Why,  Oh  why,  he 
asks  himself,  did  I  give  up  my  world  of  illusions? 
While  it  is  true,  I  was  not  perfectly  satisfied  and 
happy  there,  yet  I  did  not  suffer  the  tortures  that 
I  now  endure.  Here  I  am  in  a  place  of  torment.  I 
cannot  go  back  to  my  friends,  for  the  old  avenues 
of  human  sympathy  and  hope,  have  been  forever 
closed,  along  with  the  destruction  of  my  emotions. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  invisible  world  offer  no  con- 
solation either!" 

The  seer  paused,  and  fixing  his  gaze  on  Anthony, 
noted  the  expression  of  his  countenance.  Under  the 
piercing  glance,  the  young  man  rose  and  walking 
slowly  toward  the  door  of  the  hermitage,  looked  out 
into  the  sunlight.  Folding  his  hands  behind  him, 
he  remained  perfectly  motionless  for  some  minutes; 
then  turning  abruptly  toward  Herminio  addressed 
him: 

"Is  it  the  fate  of  every  soul,"  he  asked,  "who 
longs  for  knowledge  and  spiritual  attainment,  to 
have  this  fearful  trial  put  upon  it?" 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  W3 

"Yes,  and  no.  From  your  conception,  no.  Above 
and  beyond  your  present  conception,  yes." 

"Again,  your  answer  is  an  enigma." 

"Yes.  But  sometime  in  the  future  it  will  be 
made  plain.  We  shall  meet  again.  In  that  not  far 
distant  future,  you  will  be  susceptible  to  more  truth 
than  you  are  today,  so  that  I  will  be  able  to  speak 
to  you  with  greater  ease  and  more  freedom  than 
now." 

With  these  words  Herminio  rose  from  his  seat, 
and  taking  the  volume  of  Homer  from  the  little 
book  shelf,  turned  the  leaves  carefully  until  he 
found  the  passage  for  which  he  was  searching. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "our  conversation  has  been  of 
such  a  nature  that  your  brain  centers  are  no  doubt 
fatigued.  Let  us  give  them  a  needed  rest.  In  the 
meantime,  I  will  read  to  you  from  my  beloved  Homer, 
that  chapter  from  the  Odyssey  entitled:  'The  Con- 
versation with  Eumaeus/  As  he  placed  the  book 
against  his  long  white  beard,  the  sage  reminded 
Anthony  of  the  patriarchs  of  Old.  With  a  well  mod- 
ulated Greek  accent,  he  commenced  the  chapter  in 
which  the  unfortunate  Ulysses  relates  his  adven- 
tures to  his  friend  Eumaeus.  His  ship  wreck — his 
narrow  escape  from  death,  and  finally  his  good  for- 
tune in  being  guided  to  a  man  like  Eumaeus,  in  whose 
lodge  he  is  accorded  that  hospitality  for  which  the 
ancient  Greeks  were  alone  famous,  awoke  in  the 
mind  of  Anthony,  the  memory  of  his  college  days. 
When  finally,  the  old  sage  finished,  the  afternoon 
was  nearly  gone  and  the  sun  was  veering  toward 
the  horizon. 

"It  is  with  regret,"  said  Anthony,  "that  I  must 
take  my  final  leave.  It  will  be  sundown  in  a  few 
hours,  and  I  promised  my  wife  I  would  return  at 
that  time.  I  can  never,  never  forget  my  strange 


104        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

meeting  with  you  and  the  effect  it  will  have  on  my 
entire  future.  Knowing  you  to  be  something  more 
than  an  ordinary  man,  your  statements  and  declar- 
ations have  sunk  deep  into  my  consciousness,  and  I 
will  always  revere  the  truths  you  have  uttered  and 
hold  them  too  sacred  to  be  repeated  to  the  vulgar 
and  profane." 

As  Anthony  finished,  Herminio  placed  his  hand 
on  the  head  of  his  pupil,  and  stroking  the  curly 
black  locks,  smiled  in  recognition  at  the  compliments 
paid  him.  There,  in  the  afternoon  sunlight  stood 
master  and  pupil.  The  former  fully  conscious  of 
his  great  mission;  the  latter  wholly  unaware  of  the 
bond  of  union  that  already  held  them  together 
stronger  than  any  human  tie. 

"You  must,"  said  Herminio,  "take  leave  of  me 
now,  for  your  wife  awaits  you.  Fain  would  I  keep 
thee  longer,  my  dear  son.  But  you  must  return  to 
your  Regina,  and  then  to  your  duties  in  the  world 
of  men.  In  your  life  work  as  professor  of  Italian 
literature,  you  will  meet  with  distinct  success,  for 
you  are  endowed  by  nature  with  the  special  aptitudes 
that  make  for  a  literary  career.  You  have  studied 
much  philosophy.  Be  then  like  the  Stoics  of  Old — 
a  disciple  of  Zeno,  neither  joyous  nor  sorrowful.  So 
may  you  go  through  the  world  quietly  and  unob- 
strusively,  regarding  all  things  in  the  spirit  of  fear- 
lessness and  equanimity." 

"I  thank  you  for  your  advice  and  encourage- 
ment," replied  Anthony,  "and  I  will  try  to  preserve 
a  philosophic  spirit  throughout  the  years  of  the 
future.  You  say  we  are  to  meet  again.  When  and 
where,  and  under  what  circumstances,  I  do  not  know, 
and  should  I  ask,  you  probably  could  not  tell  me 
now.  But  I  will  hold  the  thought  that  we  are  to 
meet  again.  So  now  farewell." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  105 

"Farewell,  my  son,"  replied  Herminio,  as  he 
clasped  the  extended  hand  and  stroked  it  lovingly 
for  the  last  time.  "Farewell,  and  may  the  blessing 
of  God  rest  on  you." 

As  Anthony  crossed  the  threshhold  and  stepped 
out  into  the  little  inclosure  that  surrounded  the  hut, 
the  beams  of  the  afternoon  sun  shone  full  on  the 
stately  figure  of  the  seer,  who  stood  now  alone  in 
the  doorway  of  the  hermitage.  With  his  right  hand 
slightly  raised  above  his  venerable  head  as  if  in 
silent  benediction,  he  watched  with  loving  eye,  his 
pupil,  making  the  long  descent  down  the  incline  of 
the  mountain.  Ever  and  anon  Anthony  turned  and 
looked  back  at  the  white  figure  standing  erect  in 
the  doorway,  until  the  path  leading  past  some  small 
oaks  and  boulders  hid  the  hermitage  from  view. 

Anthony  had  met  his  Teacher. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Return. 

The  cottage  in  the  peaceful  vale, 
The  jasmine  round  the  door, 
The  hill  still  shelters  from  the  gale, 
The  brook  still  glides  before. 

— Lord  Lytton. 

Two  weeks  later,  Anthony  and  Regina  surfeited 
with  travel  and  Alpine  scenery,  reached  the  town 
of  Genoa,  where  they  boarded  the  steamer  and 
sailed  for  Messina.  The  voyage  was  uneventful. 
For  nearly  three  months  they  had  travelled  contin- 
uously, and  the  only  joy  they  now  felt  was  in  the 
return.  As  they  neared  the  friendly  straits,  and 
the  city  loomed  into  view,  their  hearts  beat  lighter 
and  a  flood  of  tender  memories  visibly  affected  them. 
With  child-like  simplicity  they  gave  vent  to  their 
emotions,  before  Alonzo  and  Anastasia  who  met 
them  at  the  pier. 

"We  have  missed  you  much,"  said  Alonzo,  as  he 
clasped  the  hand  of  his  foster  son.  "No  doubt  you 
will  be  surprised  to  know  that  we  are  now  living  in 
Messina." 

"Indeed  I  am,"  replied  Anthony.  "When  did 
you  make  the  change?" 

"About  a  month  ago;  Anastasia  was  the  first  to 
give  me  the  idea.  Then  Father  dementi  persuaded 
me.  They  told  me  I  was  getting  old — too  old  they 
said,  to  work  on  the  bench  repairing  shoes,  and  fur- 
thermore it  was  not  necessary  in  any  event  since 


108        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

I  was  a  very  wealthy  man.  So  finally  I  consented. 
We  sold  the  house  in  All  and  bought  a  home  here. 
I  think  you  will  like  the  location  we  have  picked  out. 
Come,  I  have  a  carriage  waiting. 

As  they  entered  the  conveyance  and  were  being 
driven  through  the  streets,  the  conversation  was 
incessant  and  never  for  a  moment  did  the  interest 
seem  to  flag.  When  they  drew  up  at  the  house  a 
half  hour  later,  all  the  main  points  of  the  honeymoon 
trip  had  been  hurriedly  gone  over — the  glory  of  the 
Alps,  the  skill  of  the  guide  in  taking  them  over 
dangerous  peaks  and  difficult  passes,  their  meeting 
with  Herminio,  the  sage,  and  lastly  their  impatient 
desire  to  return  again  to  their  old  home,  in  dear  old 
Messina. 

"You  have  travelled  far,"  remarked  Alonzo.  "I 
have  always  been  told  that  when  people  travel  for 
a  long  time,  the  novelty  wears  off  and  they  find  the 
greatest  joy  in  the  return." 

"Yes,  we  have  found  it  so/'  replied  Anthony. 
"But  tell  me,  is  this  the  place?" 

"It  is,"  said  Alonzo,  and  alighting  from  the  car- 
riage they  ascended  the  steps  and  entered  the  house. 
""I  think  you  will  find  everything  to  your  liking. 
Now  that  you  are  married,  we  will  not  have  to  make 
any  further  changes.  Here  we  will  live  in  peace  and 
happiness.  Anastasia  and  myself  have  not  many 
:more  years  left,  so  it  is  fitting  that  we  spend  the 
short  time  together.  Your  rooms  are  on  the  second 
floor  and  from  the  windows  you  command  a  view  of 
the  sea  and  the  straits." 

Ascending  the  stairway,  they  found  their  quar- 
ters as  Alonzo  had  described.  Regina  remarked 
that  the  promontory  overlooking  the  sea,  where 
they  had  spent  so  many  happy  hours  of  courtship, 
was  plainly  visible  from  the  east  windows,  while  a 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  109 

part  of  Neptune's  Square,  where  she  had  set  up  her 
flower  booth,  and  where  for  the  first  time,  she  had 
met  her  husband,  could  also  be  plainly  seen.  Alonzo, 
she  thought  could  have  seletced  no  better  place  in 
all  Messina.  The  situation  is  ideal,  and  I  will  always 
love  it,  because  it  commands  a  view  of  places  that 
continually  conjure  up  in  the  mind  so  many  tender 
memories  of  events  of  the  past.  How  sweet  it  will 
be  to  sit  in  the  east  windows  awaiting  the  return 
and  home-coming  of  my  husband,  in  the  late  hours 
of  the  afternoon,  when  the  evening  sun  strikes  the 
great  Square,  the  mountain  path  and  the  promontory 
itself,  with  his  golden  beams,  picturing  in  magic 
light  the  scene  of  our  happy  love. 

So  thought  Regina.  Was  there  ever  a  bride  so 
happy?  Love  alone,  had  filled  her  little  Cup  of  Life 
with  happiness  to  the  brim ;  and  with  this  great 
happiness  there  was  now  added  honor  and  riches. 
During  their  absence  on  their  honeymoon,  Alonzo  had 
made  his  last  will  and  testament,  bequeathing  to 
Anthony  his  immense  lemon  groves  near  the  en- 
virons of  the  city.  By  this  provision  her  husband 
was  now  a  rich  man.  The  revenues  which  the  groves 
yielded,  would  now  come  to  him.  Among  his  con- 
temporaries he  was  the  wealthiest  young  man  in  all 
Messina.  To  this  blessing  Fate  had  also  contributed 
honors  and  learning.  To  be  called  to  the  chair  of 
Italian  literature  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  was  no 
small  honor.  In  a  few  weeks,  on  Monday,  the  Fifth 
of  October,  the  university  would  open  for  the  term 
and  welcome  students  and  scholars  from  all  parts 
of  Italy.  What  a  position  of  trust  and  confidence! 
What  a  testimonial  of  learning  and  honor! 

At  the  thought  of  his  future  duties  and  respon- 
sibilities, Anthony's  heart  beat  high  with  pride. 
For  the  coming  year,  the  university  had  enrolled  a 


110        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

greater  number  of  students  than  at  any  time  since 
its  foundation.  This  spoke  well  for  its  past  admin- 
istration. To  be  worthy  of  its  past  greatness,  and 
to  achieve  for  it  in  the  future,  even  more  enduring 
renown,  now  became  the  task  of  its  present  coun- 
sellors. As  the  sessions  progressed  day  by  day,  it 
became  evident  that  a  new  spirit  would  soon  aid  in 
shaping  the  destinies  of  the  university,  and  that 
spirit  was  none  other  than  the  young  professor  of 
Italian  literature— Anthony  Colombo.  We  pass  over 
in  silence  the  emotions  which  the  young  teacher 
experienced,  during  the  first  few  days,  in  the  dis- 
charge of  the  duties  of  his  chosen  vocation.  But  it 
is  sufficient  to  say  that  they  were  so  indelibly 
stamped  on  the  tablet  of  his  memory,  that  there- 
after they  were  never  effaced. 

As  time  passed  and  the  novelty  of  his  new  posi- 
tion had  somewhat  worn  away,  and  the  work  took 
on  more  of  a  daily  routine  character,  he  passed 
many  happy  hours  with  his  pupils  to  whom  he  had 
become  endeared  as  a  companion  as  well  as  teacher. 
He  loved  his  art  and  his  interest  in  it  never  seemed 
to  flag.  When  occasionally  worn  out  with  long  sus- 
tained passages  of  imagination  from  Dante,  and  the 
novel  situations  in  Boccacio  he  sought  refuge  after 
the  classes  were  dismissed,  in  the  pursuit  of  natural 
science  and  philosophy,  or  sought  solace  with  his 
Regina,  to  whom  he  returned  with  the  abandon  of 
a  boy. 

Thus  absorbed  in  duties  and  the  happiness  of 
home  life,  the  time  passed  all  too  quickly.  Three 
months  had  gone  by  since  the  return  from  Switzer- 
land, where  pleasure  for  its  own  sake,  had  been  left 
behind  and  exchanged  for  the  sterner  realities  of 
life  in  the  beloved  environment  of  old  Messina. 
Happy  as  the  young  professor  and  his  wife  might 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE 


be,  in  their  love,  surrounded  by  wealth  and  honor, 
a  condition  had  come  about  in  their  home,  to  insure 
and  warrant  even  greater  happiness.  Regina  was 
soon  the  mother  to  be!  How  the  glad  news  was 
welcomed  in  the  little  Italian  household!  The  good 
Anastasia  remarked  that  twenty-five  years  pre- 
viously she  had  felt  a  great  joy  when  the  little 
Anthony  came  to  their  home.  Anastasia  recalled 
vividly  to  memory  the  incidents  of  that  memorable 
day  —  a  day  never  to  be  forgotten. 

And  now  a  similar  joy  awaited  her.  She  who 
had  been  so  happy  twenty-five  years  ago  in  the  ex- 
pectation of  becoming  a  foster  mother  to  Anthony, 
now  felt  the  same  emotions  at  the  coming  of  his 
child.  As  to  Anthony  himself,  the  element  of  expec- 
tation which  had  entered  his  life  colored  all  his 
thoughts.  He  was  about  to  become  a  father. 
Wonderful  responsibility!  Sometimes  in  his  deeper 
musings,  he  tried  to  anticipate  this  emotion  and 
analyze  with  his  philosophic  mind  its  constituent 
parts;  but  the  problem  always  eluded  him.  To  be 
known  it  must  be  experienced  by  the  consciousness. 
And  so  it  is  with  all  the  deeper  forces  of  life  that 
play  through  the  emotions.  To  know  them,  they 
must  be  contacted.  We  must  live  in  the  conditions 
that  the  emotions  can  produce.  In  no  other  way 
can  we  arrive  at  any  other  knowledge  of  it.  In  no 
other  way  will  it  reveal  its  wonderful  phenomena 
to  us. 

When  at  length  her  time  was  completed,  Regina 
was  delivered  of  a  boy.  We  can  imagine  the  feel- 
ings of  the  young  father,  standing  at  the  bedside 
of  his  beloved  wife,  holding  in  his  arms,  their  little 
son.  In  the  life  of  husband  and  wife,  sanctified  by 
holy  love,  is  there  any  hour  so  supreme,  as  that 
which  follows  after  the  arrival  of  the  first  born? 


112         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Can  any  subsequent  joy  however  great,  ever  equal 
in  intensity  and  power,  that  sublime  emotion,  which 
floods  the  soul  of  both  parents,  uniting  them  by  the 
sacred  bond,  into  an  indissoluble,  mystical  and  for- 
ever enduring  union. 

As  Anthony  gazed  lovingly  at  the  tiny  form,  a 
train  of  unutterable  thoughts  were  suggested  to 
him.  What  would  the  little  One's  future  be?  What 
latent  possibilities  were  stored  up  in  that  infant 
mind,  whose  only  claim  to  life,  was  in  the  uttering 
of  a  piteous  cry.  WTould  he,  as  he  approached  years 
of  discretion,  become  a  lover  of  nature,  as  his  father 
before  him?  Indeed  the  young  parent  so  hoped. 
For  to  love  the  things  of  nature,  is  to  love  the  things 
of  God,  and  there  is  no  surer  mark  of  the  Divinity 
within  us,  than  a  love  for  all  which  the  Lord  has 
created. 

Lovingly,  the  young  husband  replaced  his  pre- 
cious charge  by  the  side  of  the  mother;  stroking 
tenderly  the  light  hair  on  the  tiny  forehead,  he 
turned  to  his  foster  mother  and  addressed  her: 

"Anastasia,"  he  said,  "what  will  we  name  the 
boy?  Has  Regina  as  yet  suggested  any  name?" 

"Yes,  he  shall  be  called  Angelo.  It  is  your  wife's 
wish  that  he  be  named  after  his  uncle,  so  he  will 
be  given  that  name  at  baptism." 

"So  be  it,"  replied  the  young  husband.  "I  like 
the  name  very  well  and  Regina's  wish  in  the  matter 
will  be  law.  From  today  on,  my  horizon  shall  widen. 
Aside  from  my  duties  as  teacher  there  will  be  added 
the  obligation  of  a  parent.  I  welcome  the  respon- 
sibility, great  though  it  be.  It  is  for  my  wife  and 
little  Angelo  that  I  now  live.  Every  honor,  every 
success  and  every  achievement  that  comes  to  me 
will  be  laid  at  their  feet.  No  sacrifice  will  be  too 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE 


great  to  undergo  for  their  love.  It  will  be  sweet  to 
live  for  them. 

In  this  mood  of  mind,  the  young  husband  pur- 
sued his  round  of  duties  at  the  university.  But  the 
days  seemed  so  long  !  How  happy  was  he  at  the  glad 
hour  of  dismissal,  when  the  irksome  work  was  over 
and  he  could  go  home  to  his  little  son. 

In  thinking  what  the  future  held  in  store  for 
his  baby  boy,  Anthony  recalled  to  mind,  that  during 
his  first  year  in  Messina,  he  once  met  an  Astrologer 
who  had  given  him  an  outline  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  the  science  of  Astrology.  At  the  time 
he  did  not  give  the  subject  the  attention  it  deserved. 
But  now  it  occurred  to  him  with  new  meaning,  and 
he  entertained  the  thought  with  pleasure.  Thus  is 
it  always  with  parents.  Every  hopeful  thought, 
every  seer-like  utterance,  that  gives  to  their  off- 
spring even  a  shadow  of  future  greatness  in  the 
years  to  come,  is  dwelt  on  with  delight  and  half 
conscious  expectation. 

In  the  home  of  Anthony  the  same  conditions 
prevailed.  His  household  was  no  exception  to  this 
general  rule.  The  friends  who  came  to  visit  him, 
admired  his  son  and  speculated  at  length  on  his 
propitious  future. 

On  the  following  Sunday,  the  child  being  one 
week  old,  preparations  were  made  for  his  baptism. 
Late  in  the  afternoon,  a  little  party  of  three  persons, 
entered  the  Cathedral  and  took  their  places  near 
the  baptismal  font;  Alonzo  and  Anastasia  standing 
as  sponsors.  There  in  the  dim  light  which  filtered 
through  the  stained  glass  windows,  was  the  child 
christened  Angelo,  according  to  the  wish  of  his 
mother. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Future  Casts  Its  Shadow. 

Never  shall  souls  like  these 

Escape  the  Eumenides, 

The  daughters  dark  of  Acheron  and  Night! 

Unquench'd  our  torches  glare; 

Our  scourges  in  the  air 

Send  forth  prophetic  sounds  before  they  smite. 

— The  Masque  of  Pandora. 

Four  years  had  now  passed  since  the  birth  of 
little  Angelo,  bringing  the  young  father  and  philos- 
opher, to  his  twenty-ninth  year.  In  his  chosen  life 
work,  Anthony  had  risen  to  the  heights  of  success. 
Possessed  of  wealth  and  honor,  his  fame  as  teacher 
had  also  won  for  him  local  distinction.  His  family 
life,  surrounded  and  sustained  by  an  ideal  love, 
should  have  made  him  the  most  contented  and  hap- 
piest of  men.  But  during  the  latter  half  of  this 
period — the  last  two  years — a  burning  desire  to 
know  more  of  the  world-mystery — the  mighty 
secrets  of  creation — of  life  and  of  death,  had  slowly 
but  surely  taken  possession  of  him.  Having  sounded 
deeply  human  knowledge,  he,  like  the  great  Newton, 
compared  himself  to  a  child,  playing  with  the  shells 
along  the  sea  coast  of  knowledge,  while  the  great 
Ocean  of  Truth  still  lay  beyond.  On  many  a  sum- 
mer night,  while  his  wife  and  babe  were  wrapped  in 
sleep,  he  would  rise  from  his  couch  and  going  out 
on  the  balcony  direct  his  gaze  to  the  star  groups; 
those  swinging  constellations,  that  since  the  days 


116        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

of  his  childhood,  had  exercised  their  strange  fasci- 
nation over  him.  There  he  beheld  that  broad  zone 
of  light — the  milky  way,  spanning  the  heavens  in 
silent  splendor,  until  it  was  lost  to  view  in  the 
southern  confines  of  Sagittarius.  There  Polaris, 
silent  sentinel  of  the  heavenly  host,  still  held  his 
shining  place,  undisturbed  and  unmoved  amid  the 
mighty  motions  of  the  Cosmos!  There  Vega 
gleamed  with  bluish  ray,  from  out  that  crystal  pile 
of  diamond  light  in  Lyra,  whose  circling  orbs  of 
flame  moved  majestically  round  the  Sovereign  of 
the  North. 

In  silent  contemplation  the  young  professor 
would  remain  for  hours  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
heavens.  Here  at  last  was  the  real  world.  And  yet 
what  assurance  had  he  that  it  was  real?  Had  not 
modern  astronomy  declared  the  stars  to  be  com- 
posed of  the  same  chemical  elements  that  make  up 
our  own  earth?  What  charm  was  there  in  such 
discovery?  Were  not  the  shining  orbs  brought  down 
to  a  terrestrial  level?  Although  the  universe  was 
now  linked  together  in  a  common  bond  of  union, 
yet  was  it  not  a  material  bond?  Of  what  use  to 
man,  was  the  beauty  and  complexity  of  this  visible 
creation,  if  it  had  no  spiritual  value?  For  surely 
such  researches,  instead  of  inspiring  Faith  in  the 
human  heart,  only  caused  it  to  doubt  the  more. 
"But  I  will  not  doubt,"  soliloquized  this  earnest 
searcher  after  truth.  "For  me  to  doubt,  would  be 
to  die.  In  faith,  and  in  faith  alone,  must  I  find  my 
consolation.  There  is,  and  must  be,  a  greater  reality 
underlying  all  this  material  manifestation.  I  will 
put  my  trust  in  the  Invisible  and  in  that  Invisible 
realm  which  is  at  present  beyond  me,  will  a  new 
hope  be  found!" 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE 


Happy  man!  Thou  hast  made  the  call  for 
knowledge,  and  knowledge  will  be  thine.  Many, 
many  times,  have  the  great  souls  of  earth  contem- 
plated like  thee,  on  the  world's  mystery.  Alone  and 
unaided  by  their  f  ellowmen  they  withdrew  from  the 
spirit  of  the  world  and  lived  in  the  presence  of  the 
Divine  Light,  which  burned  in  the  Great  Within. 
Now  the  secret  of  power  which  those  Great  Ones 
attained,  is  never  given  out  to  the  world,  for  the 
world  is  not  worthy  to  receive  it.  There  is  a  law 
that  prevents  the  unworthy  from  even  coming  in 
contact  with  the  truths  put  forth  by  the  illuminated. 
Should  they,  perchance,  overhear  an  occult  truth, 
they  would  not  understand  it.  Thus  the  secrets 
that  lead  one  on  and  upward  to  the  heights  of  bliss 
and  knowledge,  are  by  nature  herself  most  carefully 
guarded.  But  the  conditions  that  must  obtain  in 
the  heart  of  a  man,  who  would  have  knowledge  for 
its  own  sake,  are  above  and  beyond  the  reach  of 
common  humanity.  This  condition  superhuman  as 
it  is,  you  have  already  attained.  Superhuman  knowl- 
edge will  soon  be  given  you,  but  you  will  be  called 
on  to  pay  a  superhuman  price.  Nature  balances  her 
accounts  accurately  and  the  last  tithe  must  be  paid. 

Having  invoked  super-sensuous  knowledge,  An- 
thony had  now  placed  himself  unconsciously  within 
the  range  of  its  influence.  In  his  home  life  par- 
ticularly, was  this  influence  first  noticed  and  felt. 
Among  normal  women  intuition  is  more  keen  and 
accurate  than  in  men.  Regina  was  therefore  the 
first,  to  notice  a  change  that  during  the  last  two 
years  had  been  gradually  coming  over  her  husband. 
He  did  not  seem  to  be  joyous  and  happy  as  of  Old. 
With  wealth  and  honor  at  his  command,  with  his 
distinction  that  he  had  won  as  teacher,  he  should 
have  been  the  happiest  and  most  care  free  of  men. 


118        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

But  the  very  reverse  now  seemed  to  be  the  case. 
When  at  home  with  little  Angelo  on  his  knee,  he 
seemed  to  forget  the  boy  and  sometimes  gave 
answers  which  were  not  in  keeping  with  the  ques- 
tions which  the  child  had  asked.  It  was  true  that 
he  loved  him  devotedly ;  but  it  was  also  evident  that 
his  love  was  not  impulsive  like  the  mother's.  There 
seemed  to  be  some  undercurrent  of  thought,  holding 
back  the  natural  and  careless  outbursts  of  parental 
feeling.  Spontaneity  of  action  seemed  to  have 
ceased  altogether,  and  if  for  a  short  time,  it  was 
aroused  by  the  playfulness  of  the  boy,  it  was  as 
suddenly  discontinued,  and  Anthony  would  again 
sink  into  a  species  of  reverie.  It  is  a  universal  law, 
that  all  souls  who  long  ardently  for  knowledge  above 
the  human  level,  begin  to  lose  interest  in  the  things 
of  the  material  world  and  even  the  companionship 
of  their  dearest  friends  and  relatives.  In  this, 
Anthony  was  no  exception.  He  had  demanded  of 
nature,  her  hidden  secrets.  The  demand  was  about 
to  be  granted  and  he  must,  like  all  aspirants,  come 
under  the  law. 

It  was  during  this  period,  in  the  life  of  the 
young  professor,  when  all  the  forces  of  his  con- 
sciousness seemed  to  focus  to  a  different  center.  In 
his  deeper  meditations  and  musings,  which  some- 
times lasted  far  into  the  small  hours  of  the  morn- 
ing, he  had  caught  glimpses  of  a  great  reality, 
which  the  pure  in  heart  and  the  saints  of  earth, 
have  always  regarded  as  the  richest  treasure  of  the 
soul.  This  wonderful  faculty,  so  clear  in  its  percep- 
tion, had  proved  to  its  possessor  that  cognition  was 
possible  beyond  the  sense  world.  In  the  formula  of 
Aristotle,  which  he  had  so  loved  to  ponder  over  even 
as  a  boy,  it  was  stated  that  "the  world  of  sense,  is 
a  world  of  shadows,  and  that  if  we  would  know  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  119 

true  world,  we  must  mount  on  the  wings  of  Spirit 
and  rise  to  a  purer  atmosphere  many  leagues  above 
our  own,  where  the  real  world  exists,  bathed  in  a 
light  of  gold  and  purple." 

This  wonderful  saying  of  the  Stagarite,  was  to 
the  newly  awakened  consciousness  of  Anthony,  now 
being  made  clear.  Along  with  this  gift  of  higher 
cognition,  there  was  manifested  a  decrease  in  in- 
terest for  the  things  that  are  contacted  through  the 
plane  of  the  mind.  The  highest  form  of  literary 
expression,  the  deepest  human  knowledge,  even 
human  love  itself,  now  held  only  a  secondary  place 
in  the  consciousness.  Throughout  all  cycles  of  time 
it  is  ever  the  same.  The  man  who  longs  for  knowl- 
edge, has  unconsciously  called  for  liberation.  Con- 
centrating his  thought  on  the  Unseen  and  the  In- 
visible, he  drifts  away  from  the  material  world  and 
enters  the  Ocean  of  Delight.  Here  no  storms  of 
emotion  can  ever  more  affect  the  soul,  which  has 
left  its  old  moorings  and  now  quivers  on  the  border- 
land of  Spirit. 

Anthony,  like  other  noble  souls  who  had  gone 
on  before  him,  began  to  feel  this  inner  urge.  While 
he  discharged  his  duties  as  teacher,  and  manifested 
apparently,  the  same  interest  as  of  old,  yet  in  his 
own  mind  there  was  an  ever  present  foreboding, 
that  his  connection  with  the  physical  world  was 
soon  to  undergo  some  radical  change.  Why  he 
should  entertain  such  an  idea,  he  did  not  know. 
After  the  duties  of  the  day  were  over  and  he  re- 
paired to  his  home,  the  smile  of  his  wife  and  the 
playfulness  of  little  Angelo,  would  for  a  time  master 
the  unwelcome  feeling  and  force  it  into  the  back- 
ground. But  when  the  members  of  his  household 
including  Alonzo  and  the  good  Anastasia,  had  re- 
tired for  the  night  and  the  house  was  quiet,  that 


120        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

shadow  of  impending  change  again  came  over  him. 
Sleep,  that  boon  of  nature,  which  brings  sweet  for- 
getfulness  of  care  and  worries  of  the  day,  was  oft 
denied  him  and  many  times  it  was  well  toward  the 
dawn  'ere  his  troubled  eyelids  closed  in  slumber,  and 
even  then,  the  premonitions  persisted  in  dream  con- 
sciousness. 

On  one  particular  night,  the  young  professor 
having  retired  somewhat  earlier  than  usual,  in  order 
to  court  and  induce  the  sleep  of  which  he  stood  in 
so  much  need,  dreamed  a  most  significant  dream. 
Utterly  alone  amid  the  solitudes  of  nature,  he  stood 
at  the  base  of  a  high  mountain.  It  was  a  perfect  day, 
and  as  he  gazed  upward  at  the  rugged  heights,  the 
summit  appeared  in  such  clear  outline  against  the 
blue  ether,  that  he  felt  impelled  to  climb  toward  it. 
Immediately  he  commenced  the  ascent;  but  on  look- 
ing down,  saw  that  his  feet  were  bare.  To  make 
any  progress  was  a  most  difficult  task,  and  at  times 
he  would  lose  his  foothold  and  slip  back;  and  only 
by  clutching  the  dwarf  shrubs  and  weeds  that  grew 
in  his  path,  was  he  able  to  prevent  himself  from 
being  dashed  to  death  in  the  valley  below.  Why 
he  should  continue  on  his  perilous  way,  he  knew 
not;  but  some  unseen  force  impelled  him  ever  on. 
So  on,  and  on  he  climbed  from  boulder  to  boulder 
and  shrub  to  shrub,  until  his  hands  and  feet  bled 
so  profusely,  that  the  stones  on  the  way  were 
stained  with  the  red  drops  and  he  could  scare  en- 
dure the  pain.  But  he  was  gaining  the  goal — on- 
ward! onward!  What  if  his  feet  and  hands  were 
bruised  and  bleeding,  was  not  victory  near?  What 
though  he  suffered  the  tortures  of  thirst  and  the 
pangs  of  hunger,  was  not  the  impulse  Divine  that 
urged  him  on?  So  he  struggled  forward  and  when 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  121 

at  last  with  one  mighty  effort,  he  reached  the  sum- 
mit, a  glad  cry  burst  from  his  lips.  There,  on  the 
very  top  of  the  mountain,  he  beheld  a  Greek  temple 
of  marvellous  beauty,  white  as  the  driven  snow. 
Along  its  side  there  flowed  a  stream  of  crystal  water, 
in  which  he  bathed  his  bleeding  hands  and  feet. 
Then  suddenly  the  blood  and  the  bruises  disappeared 
and  his  whole  body  was  made  white  as  the  temple 
itself.  Then  approaching  the  entrance  he  beheld  a 
marble  tablet,  on  which  were  engraved  these  words 
in  Greek  characters: 

"The  Temple  of  Knowledge.  Know  all  ye  who 
would  enter  the  precincts  of  this  sacred  temple,  that 
your  hearts  must  be  bled  from  impure  desire  and 
you  must  successfully  pass  the  superhuman  ordeal, 
of  making  The  Unity  With  Self.' ' 

Then  Anthony  awoke  from  his  dream  and  clasped 
around  his  neck,  felt  the  arms  of  little  Angelo. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Destruction  of  Messina. 

None,  none  shall  tell  that  hour  of  fearful  strife, 

When  death  must  share  the  consciousness  of  life; 

****** 

Away!  dread  scene!  and  o'er  the  harrowing  view 
Let  night's  dim  shadows  fling  their  darkest  hue. 

— Pompeii. 

It  is  early  morning  of  December  28,  1908.  The 
inhabitants  of  Messina,  surfeited  with  pleasure  and 
worn  out  with  the  Christmas  festivities  are  sleeping 
heavily.  In  every  Sicilian  household,  the  customary 
Novena,  which  ends  on  the  vigil  of  Christmas,  has 
been  religiously  kept.  Thereafter,  the  spirit  of  the 
Holidays  took  hold  on  every  mind  and  all  classes 
shared  in  the  common  joy.  Merriment  and  song  has 
been  the  order  of  the  last  few  days  and  the  happy 
children  of  the  Faith  have  shared  with  relatives  and 
friends,  the  mirth  and  conviviality  of  the  festal 
board.  So  they  sleep  on  in  heavy  dreamless  sleep, 
and  rest  in  unconscious  and  seemingly  innocent 
security. 

But  hark!  What  is  that  low  rumble  like  distant 
thunder,  that  breaks  the  impressive  stillness  of 
this  dark  hour  that  precedes  the  dawn?  At  first 
almost  inaudible,  but  increasing  in  volume  every 
second,  it  chills  the  heart  with  terror.  Then  the 
ground  moves  in  billows  like  the  sea,  and  crash  fol- 
lows crash  in  quick  succession,  till  it  seems  the 
earth  itself  is  being  split  in  twain.  Only  thirty-five 


124         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

seconds  have  passed  since  the  first  tremor  was  felt, 
accompanied  by  that  ominous  rumbling  sound,  and 
fair  Messina  is  a  heap  of  ruins.  Over  90,000  per- 
sons have  met  instant  death  in  Messina  alone,  to 
say  nothing  of  Reggio  and  Calabria.  Fires  now 
break  out  in  every  direction  and  a  drizzling  rain 
begins  to  fall.  Pinned  under  the  stones  and  debris 
the  unfortunate  victims  who  have  escaped  death, 
utter  their  agonizing  cries.  In  the  dull  glare  of  the 
flames,  the  survivors  run  madly  about,  gestulating 
wildly — chattering  incoherently.  The  catastrophe 
is  so  great,  that  it  wrecks  the  small  vessel  of  human 
reason  and  they  go  about  like  mad  men. 

The  drizzling  rain  has  now  changed  to  a  torren- 
tial downpour,  but  the  fires  do  not  go  out.  An  odor 
of  burning  flesh  fills  the  air,  and  attracted  by  the 
scent,  hundreds  of  famished  dogs  have  come  down 
from  the  hills  and  are  feasting  on  the  bodies  of  the 
dead.  Ghouls — human  ghouls,  are  also  abroad  and 
in  the  lurid  light  and  semi-shadows,  can  be  plainly 
seen  despoiling  the  unhappy  victims  of  their  jewelry 
and  ornaments.  The  remaining  few  survivors,  who 
have  not  gone  temporarily  insane,  are  praying  for 
the  dawn.  Will  daylight  never  come?  At  last  the 
struggling  beams  of  gray  that  herald  the  coming 
morn,  filter  slowly  through  the  ever-falling  drops 
of  rain.  Finally  the  day  breaks,  and  breaks  on  a 
scene  of  desolation,  unparalelled  in  the  annals  of 
seismic  destruction.  So  complete  is  the  ruin  that 
whole  streets  are  obliterated  by  smouldering  heaps 
of  stone  and  debris.  The  great  Square  of  Neptune 
is  still  recognizable,  but  it  too,  has  shared  the  com- 
mon doom.  The  Cathedral  with  its  priceless  art 
treasures  is  leveled  to  the  ground.  The  chalice 
shaped  marble  pulpit,  lies  on  its  stem — mute  testi- 
monial of  its  past  glories.  In  the  apse,  the  mosaic 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  125 

figure  of  the  Christ,  remains  unmoved — standing  in 
the  very  place,  with  hand  uplifted  in  benediction, 
where  for  five  hundred  years  it  has  blessed  thous- 
ands of  worshippers  from  every  land  and  clime. 

For  full  twenty-four  hours  the  city  lies  prostrate 
— without  communication  or  help  from  the  outside 
world.  Then  word  reaches  Naples  that  an  earth- 
quake has  destroyed  a  part  of  Northern  Sicily — 
that  is  all. 

Acting  on  this  information  the  steamer  Thrapia 
of  the  Lloyd  line,  sets  out  for  the  scene  of  the  dis- 
aster. Entering  the  straits  the  crew  of  the  vessel 
find  Messina  a  heap  of  ruins.  The  catastrophe  be- 
comes known  in  all  its  details,  and  martial  law  is 
proclaimed.  The  wounded  are  removed  to  Catania. 
The  dead,  as  many  as  can  be  extricated  from  beneath 
the  tons  of  fallen  masonry,  are  buried  in  trenches, 
covered  with  quicklime  and  rounded  over  with  earth. 
An  iron  cross  at  the  head  of  each  trench  marks  their 
common  graves.  This  done,  the  soldiers  withdraw 
and  Messina,  is  no  more. 


Two  days  before  Christmas,  Anthony  received  a 
letter  from  a  prominent  banker  of  Naples,  urging 
him  to  come  to  that  city  for  a  conference,  on  a  mat- 
ter of  great  moment.  An  endowment  was  offered 
the  university,  the  conditions  of  which  must  be 
carefully  gone  over,  before  its  acceptance  by  the 
board  of  regents.  This  endowment  coming  from  a 
prominent  citizen  of  Naples,  who  also  held  interests 
in  Messina,  was  gladly  welcomed  by  the  faculty,  as 
it  would  add  to  the  further  renown  of  their  beloved 
seat  of  learning.  Accordingly  Anthony  left  for 
Naples  late  on  Christmas  afternoon.  It  was  not 
without  some  misgiving,  that  he  bade  good-bye  to 
his  foster  parents,  his  wife  and  little  Angelo  who 


126         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

clung  to  him  tearfully,  calling  to  him  with  sobbing 
baby  voice,  to  come  back — come  back,  until  over- 
come with  emotion,  he  gave  way  to  his  childish 
grief,  by  burying  his  little  head  in  the  neck  of  his 
mother,  who  stood  timorously  on  the  pier. 

It  was  not  until  the  morning  of  the  twenty- 
eighth,  that  Anthony  held  his  first  conference  with 
the  banker.  Another  meeting,  however,  had  been 
arranged  for  the  next  day,  when  all  the  minor  de- 
tails would  be  gone  over.  About  five  o'clock  that 
afternoon,  the  news  of  the  earthquake  reached 
Naples.  Anthony,  in  a  state  of  suspense  which 
chilled  his  very  heart,  waited  in  agony  for  further 
details  and  confirmation  of  the  report.  Twelve 
hours  later  it  came.  It  was  terrible  beyond  belief. 
Reggio,  Villa  Saint  Giovanni,  Calabria  and  Messina, 
were  a  mass  of  ruins  and  200,000  souls  had  perished. 

Psychologists  tell  us  that  the  human  mind  can- 
not at  first  appreciate  a  disaster  of  great  magnitude, 
and  especially  so  is  this  true,  if  one  is  absent  from 
the  scene.  In  his  mind's  eye,  the  young  professor 
could  not  see  his  loved  ones  among  the  dead.  They 
were  present  on  the  pier,  waving  their  final  fare- 
wells to  him,  as  the  steamer  left  the  wharf  and 
sailed  out  into  the  sea.  Little  Angelo  still  called  to 
him  to  come  back — come  back.  Surely  the  entreaties 
of  that  little  angelic  soul  would  not  be  in  vain.  They 
were  alive  and  he  would  indeed  come  back  to  them. 
Regina  had  led  a  good  life  and  her  soul  was  pure 
as  snow!  Why  should  the  Lord  take  his  happiness 
from  him?  No,  they  were  not  among  the  dead. 
Although  200,000  souls  had  perished,  his  loved  ones 
were  not  among  the  number.  They  lived,  they 
breathed  the  vital  air,  and  were  awaiting  him  even 
now.  How  great  would  be  the  joy  when  he  saw 
them  again,  and  how  they  would  praise  and  thank 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  127 

the  good  Lord  for  sparing  them  from  the  common 
doom!  Although  he  should  be  with  them,  yet  he 
knows  he  cannot  be.  Martial  law  has  been  declared 
and  none  but  governmental  officials  and  their  aides 
are  allowed  within  the  danger  zone.  But  the  soldiers 
will  be  kind  to  them,  and  will  transport  them  to  a 
place  of  safety.  Even  now,  as  night  approaches,  he 
sees  little  Angelo,  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  his  mother, 
saying  his  baby  prayers,  and  asking  God  to  bless 
his  papa  in  far  away  Naples,  or  wherever  he  might 
be. 

Oh  Hope,  how  prone  thou  art,  to  lift  the  soul  far 
up  and  above  the  dark  realm  of  reality!  In  time 
of  great  doubt  and  anxiety,  how  like  a  ministering 
angel  art  thou  ever  near,  encouraging  us  with 
phantom  pictures,  all  glowing  in  life  and  color,  with 
the  touch  of  thy  magic  genius !  How  with  a  Seraph's 
God-given  fancy,  dost  thou  infuse  with  potent  art 
the  happy  scenes,  which  though  illusive  and  unreal, 
still  keep  us  for  a  time  in  a  state  of  semi-expectancy, 
'ere  the  flood  gates  of  sorrow  are  opened  and  we  are 
overwhelmed  by  agony  and  grief. 

So  Anthony  hoped  and  waited — waited  for  the 
steamer,  which  was  to  sail  on  the  following  day.  In 
his  state  of  mind  he  thought  only  of  Regina  and 
little  Angelo.  Conjuring  before  his  mind's  eye  the 
scene  of  reunion,  he  dwelt  on  it  with  such  continuity, 
that  no  other  picture  or  conception  was  possible  to 
his  fevered  brain.  One  central  thought  and  only 
one,  dominates  his  consciousness — his  wife  and  little 
boy — nothing  now  exists  save  these  two  loved  ones; 
the  whole  world  has  vanished  like  a  dream;  but 
these  two  remain.  With  them  to  love  and  care  for, 
his  little  Cup  of  Life  will  still  be  full.  He  will  face 
the  misfortune  of  poverty  if  need  be,  and  face  it 


128        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

gladly,  willingly,  if  only  Regina  and  little  Angelo 
are  left  to  him. 

Finally  the  steamer  reaches  Messina.  What  a 
scene  of  desolation!  The  fair  city  lies  prostrate — 
a  heap  of  ruins — unrecognizable.  Marble  columns, 
granite  capitals  intermixed  with  tons  of  debris, 
block  the  streets  to  such  an  extent  that  in  most 
cases  streets  and  avenues  are  wholly  obliterated. 

The  order  which  at  first  prohibited  anyone  but 
the  soldiers  from  entering  the  danger  zone,  has 
been  cancelled  and  civilians  are  now  permitted  to 
help  in  the  work  of  recovering  bodies  from  the 
ruins,  but  on  account  of  the  tremendous  difficulties, 
the  rescue  work  has  progressed  slowly. 

Anthony  passes  the  first  cordon  of  soldiers  and 
entering  the  area  of  desolation,  his  heart  sinks  with- 
in him.  He  finds  /the  ruin  to  be  far  greater  than 
his  imagination  could  have  conceived.  His  loved 
ones  do  not  meet  him.  Everywhere  he  sees  only 
strange  civilians  and  soldiers.  As  doubt  begins  to 
clutch  at  his  heart,  he  loses  his  self-control,  and 
under  the  sway  of  emotion,  hurries  here  and  there 
among  the  ruins  till  he  reaches  that  part  of  the  city 
where  he  formerly  lived.  But  no  land  mark  here 
remains  to  distinguish  what  once  had  been  his  place 
of  abode.  This  section  of  Messina  has  been  literally 
disembowelled.  No  buildings  remain.  They  have 
been  ground  to  powder.  One  mass  of  debris  from 
ten  to  twenty  feet  deep  bears  mute  witness  to  the 
Titanic  power  of  the  earthquake.  Stunned  with  the 
consciousness  of  his  probable  loss,  Anthony  reels 
around  the  ruins  like  a  drunken  man.  Nobody 
knows  or  cares  anything  about  him.  Only  a  few 
days  ago,  he  was  a  famous  young  teacher  in  the 
historic  city,  a  husband,  a  father  and  a  man  of 
wealth.  Now,  he  is  none  of  these.  The  cataclysm 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  129 

of  nature,  in  its  diabolical  fury  has  stripped  him  of 
all  these  attributes  and  made  him  poor  indeed.  For 
a  whole  week  he  wanders  around  the  ruins,  search- 
ing for  his  loved  ones,  but  no  one  has  seen  any 
woman  or  boy  answering  that  description.  Further- 
more, nobody  knows  Anthony  Colombo.  He  is  an 
unknown  entity.  A  short  time  ago  he  was  honored 
as  a  citizen  and  scholar  of  Messina.  Today  he 
stumbles  around  her  ruins,  an  imbecile  and  pauper  1 
Sad  it  is  to  note  the  direful  effect,  when  some  sud- 
den stroke  of  misfortune  shatters  the  human  reason. 
How  the  pallid  face  betrays  in  every  line  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  heart — that  poor  human  heart  with  its 
myriad  emotions,  now  torturing  the  man!  Is  God 
a  just  God,  who  by  His  Providence  allows  such  a 
sudden  affliction  to  fall  on  his  children  through  a 
capricious  convulsion  of  nature?  If  he  loves  his 
children,  as  a  father  loves  his  offspring,  then  surely 
His  mercy  has  not  been  brought  into  play?  If  He 
is  Infinite,  he  must  have  foreknowledge  and  should 
have  spared  his  children  from  a  cataclysm  which  it 
was  in  His  power  to  prevent?  Thus  thought  An- 
thony, and  thus  the  despairing  thoughts  followed 
one  another  through  his  fevered  brain.  In  his 
delirium,  at  the  close  of  another  day's  fruitless 
search  in  the  ruins,  he  approached  a  soldier  and 
telling  him  his  name,  asked  him  if  he  knew,  or  had 
heard  anything  of  his  family? 

"I  have  not  heard  of  them,"  replied  the  soldier 
haughtily,  "so  they  must  no  doubt  be  among  the 
dead." 


130        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"You  are  very  short  in  your  statement,"  replied 
the  unhappy  Anthony,  "and  you  seem  to  mock  my 
grief." 

"Were  you  a  woman,  I  might  give  you  my  sym- 
pathy," said  the  soldier,  "but  you  are  a  man  and 
must  bear  your  loss.  Do  you  think  you  are  the  only 
one  who  has  lost  relatives  and  possessions?  No. 
You  are  only  one  among  thousands." 

After  delivering  himself  of  this  sympathetic 
message,  the  soldier  strolled  away  and  left  Anthony 
seated  in  the  ruins,  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 

For  a  long  time  Anthony  remained  motionless. 
The  full  consciousness  of  his  apalling  loss  had  at 
length  dawned  upon  him.  Regina  and  little  Angelo 
were  gone  from  the  world  forever!  Oh,  bitter 
anguish  of  heart!  He  must  go  on  alone  through 
that  cold  cheerless  world,  that  had  now  become  a 
wilderness  indeed.  Slowly  he  arose,  and  leaving  the 
scene  of  desolation,  walked  toward  the  hills,  to  the 
West  of  the  ruined  city.  It  was  evening.  The  sun 
had  set  and  the  short  twilight  had  deepend  into 
night  when  Anthony  reached  the  first  ledge  of  lime- 
stone, and  began  the  ascent  up  the  cliff.  In  a  semi- 
dazed  condition,  he  walked  along  until  he  reached  a 
stone  seat  which  overlooked  the  straits.  Unconscious- 
ly he  had  reached  the  promontory  which  held  the 
sacred  memories  of  his  love.  Why  had  fate  brought 
him  to  this  hallowed  spot  as  if  in  mockery?  With 
a  groan  he  threw  himself  on  the  seat  and  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands.  Then  the  moon  rose  and  as  her 
silvery  beams  lighted  up  the  face  of  the  cliff,  the 
figure  of  a  man  stood  out  in  bold  outline  against  the 
white  limestone.  Motionless  and  mute,  the  figure 
leans  forward  with  the  face  buried  in  its  hands. 
The  evening  passes  and  midnight  approaches.  The 
moon  has  reached  the  zenith  and  still  the  mysterious 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  131 

figure  remains  seated  on  the  promontory,  as  if 
carved  from  the  stone  itself. 

Oh  favored  of  men!  You  know  not  in  this,  your 
hour  of  agony,  of  the  great  joy  that  in  the  future 
awaits  you!  At  present  you  are  under  control  of 
the  emotions  of  the  poor  human  heart,  but  these 
you  will  in  time  transmute.  Then  you  will  thank 
God  for  his  Providence.  You  will  be  given  to  eat  of 
the  Tree  of  Life,  and  be  invited  to  share  in  the  joy 
of  your  Lord. 

Anthony  had  made  the  call  for  knowledge,  and 
the  Invisible  Powers  of  the  universe,  which  had  so 
long  guarded  over  his  destiny,  began  to  respond. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Chaos. 

Have  pity  on  the  eyes  morose 
Wherein  the  soul  its  hope  reveals; 
On  fated  things  that  n'er  unclose, 
And  all  who  wait  what  night  conceals. 

— Intuitions,  Materlinck. 

It  was  well  toward  morning  when  Anthony  left 
the  promontory,  and  mechanically  made  his  way  to 
the  westward.  Occasionally  he  would  turn  and  look 
back  in  the  direction  of  that  scene  of  desolation, 
which  had  now  become  the  graveyard  of  his  hopes. 
With  unsteady  steps  he  stalked  along  his  unmarked 
way,  thick  with  underbrush  and  vegetation.  For 
three  daj^s  he  had  not  tasted  food,  and  weakened  by 
hunger,  as  well  as  grief,  he  goes  on  and  on,  not 
knowing  even  the  direction  in  which  he  is  journey- 
ing. Deep  sorrow  has  made  him  unresponsive  to 
everything  around  him.  An  automaton  in  the  hand 
of  Fate,  he  obeys  impulses  not  his  own.  Sometimes 
he  stops  in  his  erratic  walk,  and  pulling  a  piece  of 
bark  from  off  a  nearby  tree,  he  takes  it  between  his 
fingers  and  sinking  his  nails  into  the  soft  pulp,  he 
breaks  it  up  into  tiny  pieces  and  casts  them  from 
him.  Then  tearing  off  another  piece  from  the  tree, 
he  repeats  the  process,  all  the  while  staring  into 
vacancy  with  bloodshot  eyes.  Toward  noon  a  covey 
of  quails  rose  suddenly  from  a  thicket,  near  which 
he  passed,  uttering  their  shrill  piercing  cries;  they 
flew  away  only  a  few  feet  in  advance  of  him.  Yet 


134        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

he  neither  saw  nor  heard  them.  All  afternoon  he 
trudged  along,  utterly  oblivious  of  his  surroundings. 
Bereft  of  reason,  he  wanders  through  the  woods  as 
though  a  wilderness  had  claimed  him  and  he  had 
despaired  of  ever  meeting  a  human  being  again. 

Toward  sundown  he  paused,  and  seating  himself 
on  the  gnarled  roots  of  an  oak  tree,  again  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands.  It  was  not  because  day  had 
reached  its  close,  that  he  stopped  in  his  wandering 
course,  for  he  had  lost  all  cognizance  of  time,  and 
had  become  totally  oblivious  of  the  passing  of  the 
hours.  Morning,  noon  and  night,  are  alike  to  him. 
He  has  lost  all  sense  of  perception,  and  can  make 
no  distinction  between  things.  For  the  time  being, 
all  normal  processes  are  interrupted.  Having  lost 
all  that  he  loved  in  the  physical,  and  being  unable 
as  yet,  to  project  any  hopeful  thought  into  the 
future,  his  mind  dwells  as  it  were  in  chaos;  and  if 
memory  momentarily  returns,  it  comes  but  to  burn 
and  torture  him.  Living  in  this  state  of  negation, 
shattered  in  mind  and  spirit,  he  has  become  in 
reality,  naught  but  a  grim  spectre  of  the  past.  For 
some  time  he  remained  in  the  same  position,  with 
his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  Then  overcome  by 
bodily  fatigue  and  hunger,  he  fell  on  his  side,  and 
slept  the  broken  sleep,  known  only  to  the  captive 
and  the  condemned.  At  times  he  would  rouse  from 
his  fitful  slumber,  and  mechanically  pull  at  his  coat, 
as  if  he  would  bind  it  more  tightly  around  him,  for 
the  night  was  cold.  Far  above  him,  in  the  blue 
ether,  the  Winter  stars  shining  with  a  pure  spirit- 
like  brightness,  held  on  their  appointed  courses, 
while  the  familiar  constellations  thick  with  star 
dust,  moved  with  stately  procession,  in  ever  narrow- 
ing circles  round  the  Pole.  But  their  splendor  only 
mocked  him,  and  covering  his  eyes  with  his  hands, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  135 

he  shut  them  out  from  his  vision  and  groaned  aloud. 
Thus  the  night  passed — a  night  of  the  most  acute 
anguish,  agony  and  suffering. 

As  morning  dawned  he  arose,  and  again  set  out 
on  his  way.  It  was  his  fourth  day  without  food, 
and  in  spite  of  his  mental  sufferings,  nature  com- 
pelled him  to  heed  her  physical  demands.  He  must 
have  nourishment  or  perish.  Seeing  a  small  house 
which  he  took  for  the  home  of  a  shepherd  in  this 
desolete  region,  he  made  toward  it.  As  he  neared 
the  place  a  man  appeared.  He  was  old  and  decrepit 
and  bent  with  years.  Addressing  Anthony  he  asked 
him  if  he  was  a  refugee  from  Messina? 

Anthony  answered  in  the  affirmative,  but  that 
was  all.  Seeing  his  weakened  condition,  the  old 
man  brought  him  into  his  hut  and  set  food  before 
him.  Then  assigning  him  to  a  small  room,  he  bade 
him  lie  down  on  a  rudely  constructed  couch.  Then 
assuring  him  he  would  return  at  sundown,  he  with- 
drew, leaving  him  alone. 

Strengthened  and  revived  by  the  food  he  had 
taken,  Anthony  fell  into  a  quiet  slumber  and  slept 
on  until  very  late  in  the  afternoon.  When  he  awoke 
it  was  near  sundown  and  hearing  footsteps  ap- 
proaching, he  knew  that  his  host  had  returned. 
Then  the  old  man  came  into  the  room  and  finding 
Anthony  seated  on  the  edge  of  his  rude  bed,  he 
assumed  a  sad  smile  which  was  well  in  keeping  with 
his  dark  swarthy  visage. 

"You  are  better  than  you  were  this  morning,  are 
you  not?"  he  asked.  "Food  and  rest  are  good  med- 
icines, and  when  I  brought  you  here  I  knew  it  was 
that  you  needed  most." 

"Yes,"  replied  Anthony.  "I  was  very  weak.  I 
am  a  little  better  now;  but  my  sorrow  is  deep,  for 
I  have  lost  my  family  and  all  my  possessions." 


136        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"I  am  sorry  for  you/'  said  the  old  man,  "but  at 
this  particular  time,  such  cases  are  common.  Have 
you  any  relatives  left  at  all?" 

"No.  No  relatives  at  all.  They  have  all  per- 
ished." 

"What  did  you  do  in  Messina?" 

"I  was  a  teacher  in  the  university." 

"Was  your  property  also  destroyed?" 

"Yes,  my  home  was  razed  to  the  ground,  and 
my  lemon  groves  near  the  city  were  irretrievably 
ruined.  But  the  most  cruel  blow  that  Fate  inflicted 
on  me,  was  the  death  of  my  beloved  wife  and  baby 
boy.  Even  now,  I  see  them  as  they  stood  on  the 
pier,  on  the  memorable  Christmas  afternoon  when 
I  boarded  the  steamer  for  Naples.  Little  Angelo, 
held  out  his  tiny  hands  and  with  appealing  baby 
voice  called  to  me  to  come  back — come  back.  Oh 
why  did  I  not  heed  his  infant  cry  and  return.  Had 
I  done  so,  I  would  have  shared  the  common  doom, 
and  died  with  them.  But  cruel  Fate  divided  us  and 
left  me  here  to  suffer  on  alone.  To  me  the  world 
is  now  a  wilderness,  through  which  I  am  condemned 
to  go  with  sad  and  heavy  heart."  And  throwing 
himself  on  his  couch,  the  young  man  sobbed  con- 
vulsively. 

"Come,"  said  the  old  shepherd,  as  he  raised  him 
by  the  arm.  "You  must  not  give  way  to  your  grief 
in  this  way.  Do  you  not  believe  in  Christ  and  the 
Holy  Church  He  has  established?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Anthony,  "I  was  brought  up  in 
the  Faith." 

"Then  you  know,  it  is  counted  a  sin  to  grieve 
too  much.  For  when  we  do  so,  we  question  the 
Providence  of  God." 

"Yes,  that  is  true,"  replied  Anthony,  "but  my 
sorrow  is  so  great  that  I  am  consumed  by  it." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  137 

"Listen,"  said  the  old  man,  "I,  too,  have  a  sorrow 
— sorrow  for  a  crime  which  I  committed  in  my 
youth.  In  that  respect  the  sorrow  is  somewhat  dif- 
ferent but  the  memory  of  it  burns  just  the  same." 
"Were  you  pardoned  for  the  crime?" 
"Yes,  but  not  for  a  long  time  afterward.  It 
happened  in  this  way.  When  a  youth,  I  joined  an 
Italian  banditti,  which  operated  principally  in  the 
mountain  districts  of  Sicily.  Their  main  object  was 
robbery,  but  they  did  not  fail  to  commit  murder, 
when  their  business  required  it.  Nothing  was 
sacred  to  them;  and  their  vandal  hands  often  de- 
spoiled churches  and  altars  of  their  sacred  objects 
and  ornaments.  One  day  I  stole  away  from  the 
band,  thinking  I  would  win  honors  for  myself  by 
committing  a  depredation  alone  and  unassisted. 
Going  some  miles  from  my  companions,  I  hid  myself 
in  the  thick  underbrush  that  lines  the  road  near 
Taormina,  and  waited  for  nightfall.  When  the 
darkness  came  on,  I  listened  intently  and  watched 
the  road  with  anxious  eye,  to  see  if  a  traveller  was 
approaching.  Finally  my  vigil  was  awarded  by  the 
figure  of  a  man  coming  up  the  road.  In  the  moon- 
light I  saw  him  distinctly.  How  I  hoped  a  passing 
cloud  would  hide  the  face  of  the  moon,  so  that  my 
nefarious  work  could  be  done  in  greater  security. 
Suddenly  my  wish  was  granted.  A  few  minutes  be- 
fore the  stranger  was  opposite  me,  a  heavy  cloud 
sailed  over  the  moon,  so  that  when  my  victim  passed 
me,  the  road  was  dark.  Instantly  I  sprang  out,  and 
striking  him  on  the  head  with  a  bludgeon,  he  fell 
heavily  to  the  ground.  Going  through  his  clothing 
I  found  twelve  pieces  of  gold,  and  was  about  to 
make  my  escape  when  I  saw  he  was  regaining  con- 
sciousness. Fearful  of  being  discovered  and  my 
crime  found,  out,  I  siezed  my  stiletto  and  was  about 


138        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

to  plunge  it  into  his  heart,  when  his  eyes  opened 
and  fixing  his  gaze  on  me,  he  pleaded  with  me  to 
spare  his  life.  "You  can  have  the  gold,"  he  said, 
"I  will  tell  no  one,  only  spare  my  life." 

"Go,"  I  said,  "I  spare  you.  Then  I  left  him  and 
he  ran  away  up  the  road." 

The  next  day  I  buried  the  gold,  marking  well 
the  spot  where  I  buried  it.  But  I  did  not  go  back 
to  rejoin  my  companions.  For  the  first  time  in  my 
life  remorse  took  hold  on  me,  and  my  conscience 
smote  me,  for  what  I  had  done.  The  priest  to  whom 
I  confessed  my  crime,  shortly  afterward,  did  not 
absolve  me.  He  said  I  must  first  make  restitution 
before  I  could  ask  for  forgiveness.  Years  passed. 
One  night  there  came  to  this  very  hut  a  traveller 
who  asked  shelter  for  the  night.  I  took  him  in. 
Before  retiring  we  talked  for  some  hours.  He  was 
very  communicative,  and  friendly.  In  the  course  of 
his  conversation  he  mentioned  the  banditti.  Then 
he  told  me  he  was  robbed  one  night  on  the  lonely 
road  leading  to  Taormina,  and  relieved  of  twelve 
pieces  of  gold.  But  at  the  last,  he  said  the  robber 
was  considerate,  for  he  spared  his  life,  even  after 
he  had  raised  his  stiletto  to  take  it. 

Trembling  with  the  consciousness  of  guilt,  and 
knowing  him  to  be  the  man  I  had  robbed,  from  his 
knowledge  of  the  crime,  I  asked  him  to  excuse  me 
a  few  moments  while  I  went  out  into  the  yard.  I 
told  him  I  heard  a  noise  in  the  sheepfold,  and 
thought  that  something  was  annoying  the  sheep. 
Then  going  out  into  the  yard,  I  hastily  dug  up  a 
little  iron  pot  which  contained  the  gold  and  brought 
it  into  the  hut.  Here  is  your  gold,  I  said,  as  I 
counted  out  the  shining  pieces  and  laid  them  before 
him.  I  am  the  man  who  robbed  you.  If  you  forgive 
me  and  take  the  money,  I  will  have  made  restitution, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  139 

and  God  will  then  pardon  me  also,  and  my  soul  will 
rest  in  peace. 

The  man  looked  at  me  in  wonder  and  amazement. 
Surely,  he  said,  you  are  the  man  who  struck  me 
from  ambush  on  that  memorable  night;  for  you 
know  all  the  details  of  the  crime,  and  here  is  the 
gold  as  further  proof.  But  you  have  given  up  your 
sinful  life,  and  the  grace  of  God  has  touched  your 
heart.  So  I  forgive  you  freely;  for  I  can  do  nothing 
else.  But  I  will  not  take  the  gold.  I  give  it  to  you. 
It  is  yours. 

"The  next  morning  he  went  away.  I  put  the 
gold  pieces  back  in  the  little  iron  pot  and  hid  it 
under  the  roots  of  that  gnarled  oak  tree  which  you 
can  see  here  from  the  window.  That  was  thirty 
years  ago.  In  the  confessional  I  was  absolved  from 
my  sin.  Having  been  forgiven  by  both  God  and 
man,  I  should  have  been  at  peace,  but  somehow  I 
never  felt  perfect  peace,  for  every  time  I  think  of 
my  past  life,  I  suffer  from  remorse." 

Had  Anthony  been  in  his  normal  mental  condi- 
tion, he  would  have  explained  to  the  penitent,  that 
he  was  suffering  from  the  temporal  punishment  due 
his  sin,  and  that  in  time  it  would  pass  away.  But 
shadowed  as  he  was  in  mind  and  broken  in  spirit, 
he  heard  the  story  of  the  old  shepherd  with  only 
apparent  interest.  Throwing  himself  back  on  his 
rudely  constructed  couch,  he  moaned  incessantly 
and  asked  to  be  left  alone  in  his  sorrow. 

Obligingly  the  old  man  withdrew,  and  Anthony 
passed  another  restless  night  in  a  fever  of  delirium. 
Tossing  from  side  to  side  of  his  bed,  his  fitful  sleep 
was  interrupted  by  horrid  dreams  and  nightmares. 
At  times  he  clenched  his  hands  so  tightly,  that  the 
nails  sank  into  the  palms  and  drops  of  blood  oozed 


140        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

through  his  closed  fingers  and  stained  the  bed- 
clothes. In  the  morning  the  shepherd  came  into  his 
room  and  waking  him,  bade  him  take  some  nourish- 
ment. 

"You  will  come  with  me  today,"  he  said,  "and 
help  me  herd  the  sheep.  If  I  leave  you  alone,  you 
will  lose  your  mind  entirely.  Already  you  have  tor- 
tured yourself;  for  the  palms  of  your  hands  have 
bled,  and  the  bedclothes  are  stained.  Dress,  I  tell 
you,  and  come  on  with  me.  The  air  and  change  of 
scene  will  help  you." 

Half-heartedly  Anthony  rose,  and  dressed  him- 
self as  if  in  a  swoon.  Then  following  the  shepherd 
out  of  the  hut,  the  two  men  walked  through  the 
thick  fog  that  hung  like  a  pall  over  the  landscape, 
until  they  reached  the  place  of  pasturage.  Although 
it  was  the  winter  season,  the  scattered  herbage 
which  grew  sparingly  here  and  there  among  the 
rocks,  afforded  in  a  measure,  some  sustenance  for 
the  sheep.  Seating  themselves  on  a  rock  under  a 
tree,  they  watched  them  crop  the  short  grass  and 
gambol  over  the  stony  ground.  Thereafter  every 
morning  at  the  same  hour,  they  left  the  hut  together 
with  the  sheep  bounding  before  them,  and  made  for 
the  place  of  pasturage.  The  old  shepherd  was  very 
reminiscient  and  related  long  stories  of  his  life  and 
experiences  to  the  sorrowful  Anthony.  Apparently, 
he  listened  to  the  stories  of  the  shepherd,  but  had 
he  been  asked  to  repeat  the  main  points  of  a  nar- 
rative immediately  after  hearing  it,  he  would  have 
failed.  Controlled  by  one  dominating  thought — the 
loss  of  his  wife  and  little  son,  his  memory  is  im- 
paired and  he  lives  in  a  state  of  blank  negation. 
Everything  is  Chaos.  There  is  no  Creator;  for 
harmony  and  order  do  not  exist  in  the  world.  There 
can  be  no  God ;  for  the  innocent  suffer  with  the 
guilty,  and  the  saint  dies  untimely  with  the  sinner. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE 


No  age  or  condition  is  spared;  for  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye,  all  alike  have  shared  the  common  doom. 
If  God  exists  and  His  mercy  endureth  forever,  if  He 
be  the  "Mirror  of  Justice,"  the  "Seat  of  Wisdom" 
and  the  "Cause  of  Our  Joy,"  then  surely  His  justice 
must  be  tempered  with  mercy,  for  He  should  show 
love  for  his  children.  But  when  cataclysm  and  fire, 
seemingly  originate  in  the  bowels  of  hell  itself,  and 
burst  on  the  world  in  demoniacal  fury,  claiming  the 
innocent  babe  with  the  decrepit  gray-haired  man, 
there  is  no  order  in  the  Cosmos,  for  Chaos  rules 
supreme.  Oh  Life,  thou  are  indeed  a  fearful  gift; 
for  we  know  not  the  moment,  when  capricious 
Chance  will  hurl  us  from  happiness  and  security,  to 
misery  and  danger,  from  hope  to  despair,  from 
wealth  to  poverty;  aye,  from  life  to  death. 

To  Anthony,  living  in  the  first  stages  of  the 
Great  Awakening,  Chaos  is  become  the  order.  It 
is  the  one  reality.  In  that  he  lives  and  moves  and 
has  his  being.  He  knows  no  other  world.  A  Titanic 
and  capricious  force  called  Nature,  rules  the  universe 
of  things.  The  pigmy  man,  swept  along  by  this 
mighty  power  like  chaff  before  the  gale,  is  powerless 
to  direct  his  course,  but  becomes  the  sport,  as  it 
were,  of  contending  winds  that  waft  him  to  destruc- 
tion. In  his  own  case,  was  this  not  too  true?  Was 
he  not  only  a  short  time  before,  prosperous  and 
happy?  What  had  he  done  to  merit  this  awful 
visitation?  Had  he  not  been  always  upright  and 
honest;  likewise  chaste  and  virtuous,  to  an  extreme 
degree?  Had  he  not  been  a  loyal  child  of  the  Faith, 
a  loving  husband  and  father,  discharging  his  obliga- 
tions with  scrupulous  exactitude?  What  man  could 
accuse  him  of  shortcomings  in  this  regard?  If  his 
life  then,  had  been  ideal  and  just  before  the  Lord, 


14-2        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

why  was  he  given  this  Cup  of  Sorrow  to  drink  in 
agony  and  tears? 

But  no.  Beneficent  Providence  does  not  rule  the 
world  and  the  Cosmos.  The  skeptics  and  the  unbe- 
lievers, the  freethinkers  and  the  atheists,  have 
proved  their  case  at  last.  There  is  no  heaven,  but 
there  is  a  hell  that  is  manifest  on  every  hand.  This 
hell  is  in  every  human  heart,  and  instantly  begins 
to  torture  the  man,  the  moment  that  capricious 
thing  called  Nature,  takes  from  him  something  on 
which  he  has  set  his  affections.  How  foolish  is  man 
to  cultivate  emotions  that  cause  him  only  sorrow! 
How  much  happier  is  the  proud  scientist  and  philos- 
opher, who  denying  the  existence  of  God  and  the 
soul,  bow  down  before  this  all-powerful  Nature  and 
her  inexorable  decrees?  How  foolish  the  cry  of  the 
Psalmist,  who  addressing  God,  says: 

"What  is  man  that  Thou  are  mindful  of  him?" 
"Does  not  bitter  experience  prove  that  no  such 
power  is  ever  mindful  of  us?  No.  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  a  Divine  Providence  ruling  the  world  and 
the  affairs  of  men.  Coming  into  consciousness 
through  some  blind  force,  inherent  in  matter,  we 
live  our  little  day  and  suffer  a  thousand  hours  of 
pain,  to  one  of  pleasure.  Afar  off  the  Fates  and 
Furies  watch  our  feeble  efforts  in  ghoulish  glee, 
and  mock  us  with  their  hollow  laughter.  Instead 
of  establishing  peace  on  the  earth  and  good  will 
among  men,  we  sow  seeds  of  strife  and  discord,  until 
hatred  takes  the  place  of  love  and  millions  of  men 
march  forth  to  gory  battlefields  to  please  the  god 
of  war.  Verily  the  world  is  Chaos,  and  the  heart 
of  man  lives  in  it..  From  the  dawn  of  time  even 
until  now,  it  was  ever  so.  The  apostles  of  pessimism 
and  despair,  have  indeed  voiced  the  truth.  In  the 
economy  of  nature,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  mercy 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  143 

and  justice  is  a  stone.  Come,  Oh  Sorrow,  and  con- 
sume me.  Thou  art  my  heritage.  Into  thy  dark 
bosom  Oh,  Chaos,  I  return  from  whence  I  came.  En- 
gulfed in  thy  black  shadow,  I  am  again  one  with 
Thee.  Oh,  Chaos!  Chaos!  Chaos! 


CHAPTER  XL 
Despair. 

We  are  the  fools  of  time  and  terror.  Days 
Steal  on  us  and  steal  from  us;  yet  we  live, 
Loathing  our  life  and  dreading  still  to  die. 

— Byron. 

Six  months  have  passed  since  Anthony  came  to 
the  home  of  the  shepherd.  In  the  hut  of  the  recluse, 
he  has  found  a  refuge  and  asylum,  he  would  have 
sought  for  in  vain  elsewhere.  Under  the  constant 
care  of  the  old  man,  he  has  become  as  a  child,  obey- 
ing implicitly  his  every  request.  Each  morning 
shortly  after  sunrise,  they  have  gone  forth  together 
with  the  sheep  bounding  before  them,  to  the  place 
of  pasturage.  The  hot  July  sun  smites  so  fiercely 
with  its  rays,  that  for  the  greater  part  of  the  day, 
they  seek  shelter  from  the  heat,  under  the  spread- 
ing branches  of  an  oak  tree.  The  old  shepherd  has 
been  very  watchful  of  his  charge,  and  has  begun 
to  note  a  slight  change  in  the  mental  condition  of 
his  patient.  The  chaotic  state  of  mind,  in  which  the 
young  man  has  been  plunged,  is  at  times  momen- 
tarily broken;  and  although  his  mind  wanders  and 
he  is  still  unable  to  concentrate  his  thoughts,  yet  a 
shadow  is  seen  to  occasionally  cross  his  features, 
portraying  a  conflict  of  emotions  going  on  within. 
This  sign,  the  old  man  has  taken  as  ominous  of 
change.  For  hours  together,  they  have  sat  in  silence, 
watching  the  sheep  crop  the  short  grass  in  the 


146        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

summer  sun.  Then  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the 
situation,  the  old  man  would  recount  some  exploit 
of  his  youth,  to  which  Anthony  would  apparently 
listen  with  attention.  But  his  thoughts  were  far 
away.  He  would  contrast  his  past  life  with  his 
present  condition  and  draw  pictures  of  his  happy 
past,  when  he  lived  in  Messina  with  his  wife  and 
little  Angelo.  Then  the  world  was  his!  Riches, 
honor  and  love  strewed  the  pathway  of  his  life. 
When  he  entered  the  class  room  in  the  morning,  a 
hum  of  approbation  would  rise  from  the  assembled 
students,  acknowledging  the  respect  and  confidence 
in  which  they  held  their  instructor.  Highly  esteemed 
by  the  faculty,  for  the  honor  he  shed  on  the  uni- 
versity by  his  intellectual  gifts,  he  had  also  risen 
by  a  series  of  successes  to  a  high  place  in  the  esteem 
of  the  leading  men  of  Messina.  Now  all  this  was 
changed.  The  happiness,  the  success,  the  prestige, 
the  honor,  has  gone  out  of  his  life  forever.  Con- 
demned to  a  life  of  isolation  and  solitude,  with  an 
unlettered  man  of  the  hills,  he  has  become  humbled 
in  the  dust.  The  rude  hut  in  which  he  lives  is 
naught  but  a  covering  from  the  air.  It  contains  no 
books  or  pictures.  With  the  simplicity  of  a  child, 
he  goes  forth  each  morning  into  the  hills  with  this 
uncouth  old  man,  who  was  at  one  time  in  his  life 
a  criminal  and  thief !  Oh,  how  hath  the  proud  fallen 
from  their  high  estate!  Never  in  his  wildest  dreams 
could  he  have  foreseen  such  a  change.  As  his  mind 
slowly  emerges  from  its  chaotic  condition,  he  begins 
to  compare  the  past  with  the  present,  and  seeks  to 
find  a  reason  for  the  misfortune  that  has  befallen 
him.  Slowly  the  thought  processes  give  a  slight 
promise  of  return  to  normal  conditions.  Chaos  does 
not  rule  supreme.  There  are  moments  when  the 
consciousness  becomes  alert  and  active,  and  at  such 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  147 

times  he  dwells  on  the  phenomena  without  emotional 
feeling  and  holds  it  before  his  mind's  eye  in  the  light 
of  cold  reason.  He  is  no  different  from  the  rest  of 
humanity.  The  great  stream  of  human  souls  that 
have  visited  the  earth  since  the  beginning  of  time, 
have  passed  out  into  the  shadow.  Each  individual 
soul  has  had  its  trials  and  sorrows.  They  have 
endured  many  agonies  in  bitter  silence,  unable  to 
express  to  other  souls,  their  hopelessness  and  de- 
spair. Never  before  had  he  identified  himself  with 
the  whole  of  humanity  in  this  way.  He  had  always 
considered  himself  as  apart  from  it — as  a  something 
separate  from  the  general  mass.  Has  he  been 
brought  down  to  this  low  level,  to  this  despicable 
condition  to  be  made  to  realize  his  relation  to  it? 
In  the  past,  during  his  prosperity,  did  he  ever  give 
any  thought  to  the  poor  and  the  unfortunate — the 
ignorant  and  the  despised?  While  it  is  true  that 
he  gave  alms  to  the  needy;  did  he  do  so  in  the  spirit 
of  true  charity,  or  did  he  act  from  the  custom  of 
the  world  and  its  conventions?  Those  who  were 
less  fortunate  than  himself,  he  had  helped  in  this 
way,  but  had  he  ever  seriously  considered  them  in 
his  thought?  Had  he  ever  felt  his  relation  to  this 
great  common  humanity  that  lived  in  abject  pov- 
erty, in  the  slough  of  despond? 

In  looking  over  his  past  life,  his  ambitions  and 
desires  seemed  to  marshall  themselves  and  passed 
in  procession  before  his  vision  as  if  in  a  mirror. 
They  stood  apart  from  him,  and  were  not  a  part  of 
him  as  they  had  been  hitherto.  In  despair  he  closed 
his  eyes  and  holding  his  head  in  his  hands,  sought 
to  shut  out  the  unwelcome  pictures  that  presented 
themselves  successively  before  him.  Although  they 
now  seemed  like  ghosts  and  phantoms  of  the  past, 
yet  among  these  phantoms  he  had  lived  his  vain  life, 


14-8        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

and  had  even  cherished  them  as  ideals  and  realities. 
His  personality  had  been  bound  up  with  them.  Now 
in  his  hour  of  sorrow  and  despair,  he  had  learned 
that  his  personality  was  not  himself.  The  real  man 
was  not  the  personality.  The  individual,  the  real 
Self,  having  become  disentangled  and  unattached 
from  its  former  center  in  the  physical  life,  asserted 
its  consciousness  and  power  as  an  independent 
entity.  Having  broken  the  fetters  that  bound  it  to 
the  world  of  illusion,  it  demanded  recognition  from 
the  soul  of  the  man. 

Unable  as  yet,  to  live  in  the  higher  consciousness, 
Anthony  is  bowed  in  the  dust.  Emerging  from  the 
state  of  Chaos,  he  would  again  gladly  ally  himself 
with  the  forces  of  the  physical  world.  But  the  main 
springs  and  support  of  that  world  have  been  by  cruel 
fate,  suddenly  taken  from  him,  and  he  cannot  return 
to  it  under  the  same  conditions  as  of  Old.  Although 
the  dead  past  has  buried  its  dead,  Anthony  continues 
to  live  in  that  past.  Its  pictures  and  memories 
appeal  to  him  with  such  subtle  power  that  he  is 
drawn  insensibly  into  the  region  of  desire.  Here 
he  suffers  from  "the  abomination  of  desolation," 
for  all  the  world  is  laid  desolate.  Day  after  day  he 
has  gone  forth  with  the  old  shepherd,  only  to  despair 
over  his  wretched  condition.  He  returns  at  night- 
fall to  the  shepherd's  hut  in  the  same  poverty  of 
spirit,  with  which  he  went  forth  in  the  morning. 
Is  this  state  of  mind  to  last  indefinitely?  Assuredly 
not.  Yet  if  he  despairs  in  Gethsemene,  how  will  he 
be  able  to  face  the  Cross  on  Calvary? 

Torn  by  conflicting  emotions,  Anthony  lives  in 
despair.  Unable  like  Job,  to  bless  God  in  his  misery, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  149 

he  sees  in  Him  the  Author  of  his  misfortune.  Living 
in  this  terrible  state  he  has  become  a  victim  of  the 
delirium  of  the  lower  consciousness.  There  can  be 
no  hope;  for  that  on  which  his  happiness  was 
founded,  has  been  swept  into  oblivion.  He  can  never 
again  attach  himself  to  it,  for  it  exists  no  more. 

Fully  realizing  his  condition,  he  wonders  what 
the  end  will  be.  Sometimes  in  his  delirium,  he 
imagines  himself  back  in  the  happy  past,  in  the 
presence  of  his  beloved  wife,  listening  to  the  childish 
prattle  of  little  Angelo.  At  such  times  his  face 
lights  up  with  joy,  and  the  old  shepherd  smiles  and 
thanks  God  that  he  has  given  his  charge  a  brief 
respite  from  his  sufferings,  if  only  through  an 
illusion. 

But  this  quickly  passes;  and  once  more  Anthony 
finds  himself  in  the  cold  world  of  reality.  A  world 
in  which  there  is  no  incentive  in  the  present  and 
no  hope  in  the  future.  Weighted  down  by  this 
awful  condition,  courage  and  faith  find  no  place  in 
the  consciousness.  The  day  brings  no  promise  and 
the  night  no  rest.  The  monotony  of  despair  has 
taken  possession  of  the  soul  and  holds  it  captive. 
In  this  darkness,  the  captive  soul  lives,  enmeshed 
in  the  thick  veils  of  matter.  How  long  it  will  endure 
in  this  state  the  Higher  PowTers  alone  know.  The 
time  of  captivity  varies  with  the  age  of  each  indi- 
vidual soul.  But  not  until  the  last  vestige  of  earthly 
dross  has  been  burned  away,  will  the  light  from 
spirit  shine.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  will  the  time 
of  its  captivity  end,  and  the  door  of  its  prison  be 
thrown  open.  Into  this  nether  darkness  it  is  the 
fate  of  every  soul  to  descend  for  a  time.  There  it 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 


must  be  made  fit  for  the  light  of  spirit  to  illume  its 
darkened  chambers  —  there  it  must  repose  till  the 
Infinite  Light  awakens  it  into  consciousness  by  its 
sacred  ray. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Dark  Night  of  the  Soul. 

Angel  of  God!  thy  finer  sense  perceives 

Celestial  and  perpetual  harmonies, 

****.* 

Cecelia's  organ  sounding  in  the  seas 

And  tongues  of  prophets  speaking  in  the  leaves. 

But  I  hear  only  discord  and  despair, 

And  whispers  as  of  demons  in  the  air. 

—The  Golden  Legend. 

Among  the  precious  legacies  which  Saint  John 
of  The  Cross,  Christian  mystic  and  philosopher,  left 
to  the  world,  was  the  famous  treatise  to  which  he 
gave  the  title:  "The  Dark  Night  of  the  Soul."  In 
this  celebrated  work,  this  sacred  writer,  describes 
at  great  length,  the  unhappy  condition  through 
which  the  soul  must  pass  and  the  ordeals  of  puri- 
fication that  must  be  endured,  before  it  is  made 
worthy  to  receive  the  light  of  the  spirit.  If  the 
soul  successfully  passes  through  the  "Dark  Night," 
the  final  stages  of  its  Purgatory  have  been  gone 
through,  and  it  is  made  fit  to  function  in  the  realm 
of  pure  spirit.  For  the  first  time  in  its  long  exist- 
ence, the  soul  leaves  the  twilight  and  shadows  of 
the  material  world  and  enters  into  the  light  of  the 
spiritual.  Here  doubt  no  longer  assails  it.  The 
crafty  powers  of  the  lower  world  are  unable  to  stay 
its  further  progress  toward  Divinity.  Having 
passed  the  final  ordeals,  it  realizes  its  relation  to  the 
Infinite,  and  experiences  through  this  mystical 


152        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTKAL 

union,  the  coming  joy  of  its  Lord. 

Into  this  mysterious  realm  of  the  "Dark  Night," 
was  the  soul  of  Anthony  now  plunged.  Almost  a 
year  had  passed  since  the  destruction  of  Messina, 
and  the  passage  of  time  had  apparently  in  no  way 
mitigated  his  sufferings.  The  winter  season  had 
come.  A  light  snow  had  fallen  and  covered  the 
fields  and  the  hut  of  the  shepherd.  In  the  home  of 
the  recluse  the  two  men  had  been  in  earnest  con- 
versation for  some  hours.  The  old  man  had  been 
exhorting  his  charge  to  give  up  his  despairing 
thoughts  and  place  his  hope  in  the  future.  Seeing 
that  his  efforts  were  unavailing,  and  that  he  made 
no  impression  on  the  young  man,  he  finally  became 
impatient  and  addressed  him  vehemently. 

"Anthony,"  he  exclaimed,  "do  you  remember  the 
mental  condition  you  were  in  when  you  came  to  this 
hermitage?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  sufferer,  "I  was  in  a  most 
miserable  plight.  Driven  almost  insane  by  my  irre- 
trievable loss,  I  had  wandered  for  days  in  the  wilder- 
ness, until  hunger  compelled  me  to  come  to  your 
lodge  and  ask  for  nourishment." 

"And  did  I  not  welcome  you,  as  a  father  would 
have  welcomed  his  own  child,  and  bid  you  stay  under 
my  humble  roof,  until  your  wounds  were  healed?" 

"Yes,  you  did  that,"  rejoined  Anthony;  "you 
treated  me  as  if  I  were  your  own  flesh  and  blood  and 
every  time  I  think  of  it,  the  tears  of  gratitude  spring 
to  my  eyes." 

"It  is  for  that  same  reason  that  you  should  put 
more  trust  in  my  counsels,"  replied  the  shepherd. 
"I  know  this  condition  in  which  you  now  find  your- 
self, is  not  always  to  last.  You  do  your  wife  and 
son  no  good  by  grieving  after  them;  but  you  are 
doing  a  positive  injury  to  yourself.  Not  only  that; 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  153 

but  despair  in  itself  is  a  sin.  I  did  not  expect  you 
to  get  over  your  sorrow  in  a  week  or  even  a  month, 
but  a  year  has  passed  since  you  came  here  and  you 
show  scarcely  any  sign  of  improvement." 

"Do  I  not  show  a  good  spirit?"  replied  the 
wretched  Anthony,  as  he  crossed  his  hands  over  his 
knees  and  gazed  vacantly  into  space. 

"No,  you  do  not,"  harshly  interposed  the  shep- 
herd. "You  do  not  even  try  to  throw  a  little  courage 
into  yourself.  God  in  his  wisdom  has  taken  your 
loved  ones  from  you,  and  put  you  in  poverty  of 
spirit  for  some  cause;  which  I  know  not,  but  there 
is  a  purpose  in  it  all.  But  as  you  do  not  conform 
3'our  life  to  his  Holy  Will,  you  reject  His  Providence, 
and  that  is  the  cause  of  your  suffering." 

"Perhaps  so.  But  since  the  day  Messina  was 
destroyed,  my  life  is  a  blank.  Even  should  I  recover 
my  health  and  normal  spirits,  I  can  see  no  object  in 
living." 

"You  give  the  lie  to  the  Faith  that  you  claim 
to  believe  in,"  said  the  old  man.  "Holy  Chuch  has 
always  taught  resignation  to  the  Will  of  God.  In 
your  prosperity  you  believed  in  this  tenet  of  the 
Faith.  In  the  past  God  had  willed  you  happiness, 
honor  and  riches.  Although  they  are  the  baubles 
that  the  foolish  seize,  they  formed  the  background 
of  your  life.  From  your  seemingly  secure  position, 
you  regarded  the  world  with  complacency.  But  in 
an  instant,  God,  the  Almighty,  saw  fit  to  stage  your 
life  amid  different  scenes.  He  reversed  the  order 
of  His  Providence,  and  instead  of  riches  and  hap- 
piness He  willed  you  poverty  and  affliction.  Oh,  it 
is  sweet  to  bask  in  the  sunlight  of  worldly  pros- 
perity, and  from  our  high  place,  look  with  equan- 
imity on  the  sufferings  of  our  brothers  in  the  world 
and  like  the  Pharisee  thank  God  that  we  are  not 


154-        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

like  other  men!  This  catastrophe  has  brought  you 
to  your  knees,  and  made  you  realize  even  against 
your  will,  your  relation  to  the  vilest  man  that  lives. 
A  short  year  ago  you  were  an  honored  instructor 
in  the  classics.  Would  you  at  that  time,  have  re- 
garded me  as  an  equal  and  sought  my  society? 
Certainly  not.  Yet  today  you  are  glad  to  find 
an  asylum  under  my  humble  roof;  and  it  would  be 
with  regret  that  you  would  leave  my  hut  even  if  I 
told  you  to  go.  I  defy  you  to  contradict  what  I  have 
said.  You  know  it  is  the  truth;"  and  advancing 
until  he  was  directly  opposite  his  charge,  he  shook 
his  bony  finger  menacingly  in  the  face  of  the  de- 
spairing sufferer. 

Anthony  winced  and  bowed  his  head  in  shame. 
To  his  disordered  vision  the  figure  of  the  old  man 
became  huge — monolithic.  In  the  dim  light  of  the 
tallow  candle,  he  semed  like  an  evil  spirit  of  Cyclo- 
pean proportions,  coming  from  the  depths  of  hell 
itself,  to  accuse  him  of  his  shortcomings  in  the  past. 

"I  am  your  Evil  genius,"  shrieked  the  voice  of 
the  shepherd.  "The  Nemesis  of  your  destiny  at  last 
confronts  you  in  this,  the  hour  of  your  greatest 
anguish,  and  in  mocking  glee,  lays  bare  the  cover- 
ings of  your  artificial  life.  At  last  your  proud  spirit 
has  been  humbled  in  the  dust.  The  Cross — the  sign 
of  your  redemption,  is  now  laid  across  your  shoul- 
ders. Have  you  the  strength  to  carry  it?" 

Receiving  no  answer  from  the  terror-stricken 
Anthony,  the  shepherd  continued: 

"In  the  past,  life  to  you  was  all  sunshine,  and 
you  could  not  see  the  coming  sorrows  that  lurked  in 
the  shadows.  Now  that  the  sun  of  your  happiness 
has  set  and  the  glare  of  its  light  is  gone,  the  events 
of  your  life  will  group  themselves  in  your  memory, 
to  burn  and  torture  you,  as  long  as  you  sit  in  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  155 

shadow.  Now  the  sun  of  that  day  has  forever  set. 
You  long  for  it  to  reappear,  but  it  will  never  rise. 
Now  there  is  another  sun,  more  glorious  than  the 
first,  ever  ready  to  cheer  you  with  its  lucid  rays, 
the  moment  you  are  able  to  regard  these  treasured 
memories  as  the  ghostly  tissues  of  a  dream.  It  is 
for  you  to  rise  from  your  present  despairing  state 
and  accepting  the  Cross  which  the  Lord  has  given 
you,  carry  it  with  patience  and  fortitude.  You  will 
find  it  harder  to  live  your  Faith,  than  to  merely 
believe  in  it.  But  it  is  in  the  doing  and  not  in  the 
mere  believing  that  virtue  lies.  I  can  tell  you  no 
more.  The  finger  of  the  Lord  has  touched  you. 
His  Grace  is  sufficient  to  bring  you  out  of  your 
trouble  if  you  will  but  co-operate  with  it.  But  the 
effort  and  the  determination  to  do  this,  remains 
with  you  alone." 

At  these  last  words  of  the  shepherd,  Anthony 
fell  into  a  swoon.  When  he  regained  consciousness, 
he  found  himself  alone.  The  candle  having  burned 
itself  out,  he  groped  his  way  in  the  darkness  to  his 
room,  and  throwing  himself  on  his  wretched  bed, 
again  gave  way  to  despair.  But  his  thoughts  now 
took  a  different  turn.  He  recalled  the  events  of  his 
boyhood  in  the  little  village  of  Ali.  In  that  far  off 
time  of  innocence,  the  scenes  of  his  youth  marshalled 
themselves,  and  seemed  to  pass  in  mute  procession 
before  his  mental  vision.  He  remembered  vividly 
the  humble  character  of  the  Sicilians,  who  banding 
themselves  in  groups  of  four  and  five,  went  from 
house  to  house  during  the  evenings  of  Holy  Week, 
singing  in  a  minor  key  of  the  agony  and  sufferings 
of  Jesus.  Rude  and  unlettered  as  wjere  these  men 
of  the  Lamenti,  for  so  they  were  called,  yet  they 
were  pure  in  heart  and  bore  their  poverty  with  a 
heroic  patience  that  must  have  had  its  origin  in 


156          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

heaven  itself.  They  had  also  had  crosses  and  afflic- 
tions. Death  had  robbed  them  of  their  loved  ones. 
Disasters  had  overtaken  them;  yet  they  had  lived 
through  it  all  and  blessed  God  besides.  Surely  in 
the  simplicity  of  their  lives,  they  exemplified  the 
Beatitudes.  They  were  more  Christian  than  he. 

Tossing  himself  from  side  to  side  of  his  wretched 
cot,  he  continued  to  call  up  pictures  of  that  far  off 
past.  Before  his  mental  vision  there  appeared  now 
a  character  more  unique  than  all  the  rest.  Antoine 
Alepazzi,  a  friend  of  his  youth,  had  the  misfortune 
while  working  in  the  sulphur  mines,  to  lose  his  right 
leg.  It  was  amputated  at  the  knee..  Anthony  re- 
membered that  when  the  unfortunate  man  lay  on 
his  bed  of  suffering  he  had  made  him  frequent 
visits  to  encourage  and  console  him.  But  Antoine 
seemed  to  have  had  only  one  wish,  and  that  gave 
him  the  greatest  concern.  He  hoped  his  leg  would 
be  sufficiently  healed,  so  that  when  the  Holy  season 
of  Lent  set  in,  he  would  be  able  as  had  been  his 
custom,  for  years  previous,  to  light  the  great  lan- 
tern at  the  foot  of  the  wooden  Cross,  that  stood  on 
the  stony  hill  called  the  Calvary,  just  North  of  Ali. 
His  prayers  were  answered,  and  Anthony  recalled 
the  gleam  of  joy  that  lit  up  his  features,  when  the 
physician  told  him  that  his  leg  would  be  healed  in 
time  for  him  to  attend  to  this  customary  duty. 
Thereafter  on  every  Friday  night  during  that  season 
of  Lent,  when  the  gleam  of  the  lantern  lighted  up 
the  figure  of  the  Cross,  Anthony  had  thought  of 
Antoine  and  his  simple  wish.  He  seemed  to  have  one 
idea  that  overshadowed  all  others — he  lived  to  light 
the  lantern  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross — that  was  all. 

Such  faith,  simple  though  it  was,  was  withal 
most  heroic.  But  where  was  his  faith  now?  Having 
always  lived  in  the  sunshine  of  life,  he  had  not  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  157 

courage  to  face  the  future  which  seemed  so  dark 
and  uncertain.  Tossing  on  his  bed  of  pain,  he  suf- 
fered all  the  tortures  of  despair.  In  the  small  hours 
of  the  morning  he  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep,  awak- 
ing at  intervals  to  find  the  crafty  Powers  of  dark- 
ness clutching  at  his  very  soul.  Condemning  him- 
self for  his  idle  life,  and  feeling  keenly  a  sense  of 
unworthiness,  he  must  now  live  over,  forever  and 
ever  the  events  of  the  past.  The  future  for  him 
did  not  exist,  for  there  was  no  hope.  In  this  miser- 
able plight,  he  wished  that  the  day  would  never 
dawn.  Of  what  use  was  the  light  of  the  sun  and 
the  splendor  of  day,  which  came  only  to  mock  him? 
Was  it  not  more  fitting  for  eternal  night  to  engulf 
the  soul,  which  had  learned  to  love  the  darkness? 
Wrapped  in  her  friendly  pall  he  would  be  at  least 
alone.  Shielded  by  her  black  mantle,  he  would  be 
secure  from  prying  eyes  and  accusing  voices,  and 
could  all  the  better  endure  his  sufferings,  in  the 
bitter  silence  of  isolation. 

But  finally  the  dawn  broke,  bringing  with  it  the 
unwelcome  day.  Anthony  rose  and  going  into  the 
next  room,  found  that  the  shepherd  had  already 
gone.  Glad  to  be  alone  with  his  despairing  thoughts, 
he  commenced  to  pace  the  floor  nervously.  On  the 
rude  table,  the  old  man  had  left  some  boiled  rice 
and  honey.  But  as  Anthony  would  sometimes  go 
for  days  without  nourishment,  he  did  not  notice  the 
food.  At  noon  the  shepherd  returned,  ate  his  simple 
dinner  and  again  left  the  hut,  without  saying  a  word 
to  the  sufferer. 

Anthony  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  this  strange 
conduct  on  the  part  of  his  benefactor.  In  secret  he 
had  longed  to  be  alone  with  his  gloomy  forebodings. 
Without  making  a  verbal  demand,  his  wish  had  been 
granted,  yet  his  sufferings  became  keener  than  ever. 


158          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

For  almost  a  week  complete  silence  had  been  ob- 
served, no  words  having  been  exchanged  between 
the  two  men.  At  length  on  the  seventh  day,  the 
shepherd  broke  the  silence,  by  asking  Anthony  to 
accompany  him  to  the  place  of  pasturage. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "I  have  news  for  you.  A 
stranger  passed  through  the  field  yesterday  and 
gave  me  this  little  book,  saying  I  might  find  some- 
thing therein  to  comfort  my  soul,  but  as  I  cannot 
read,  I  give  it  to  you.  Perhaps  it  contains  some 
message  that  will  redound  to  your  benefit." 

So  saying  the  shepherd  drew  from  the  inside  of 
his  coat,  a  small  book  bound  in  padded  leather  and 
laid  it  on  the  table. 

Taking  up  the  little  volume,  Anthony  found  it 
to  be,  "The  Imitation  of  Christ,"  by  Thomas  a  Kem- 
pis.  Years  before  he  had  been  familiar  with  this 
treasury  of  the  Christian  faith,  and  as  he  read  the 
title  page,  the  old  man  imagined  he  saw  the  joy  of 
recognition  light  up  his  troubled  features.  Turning 
the  leaves  at  random,  his  eye  fell  on  the  following 
passages : 

"What  every  man  truly  is,  is  best  shown  by 
occasion  of  adversity:  For  occasions  make  not  a 
man  fail,  but  they  show  what  the  man  is." 

And  again: 

"He  that  overcometh,  saith  our  Lord,  I  shall  give 
him  to  eat  of  the  Tree  of  Life." 

And  again : 

"He  that  withdraweth  himself  from  friends  and 
known  men,  God  shall  come  nigh  unto  him  with  his 
holy  angels." 

Anthony  could  read  no  more.  The  great  truths 
came  like  a  flash  of  light,  into  the  "dark  night"  of 
his  soul.  Closing  the  volume  he  looked  at  his  bene- 
factor and  burst  into  tears. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  159 

"Come,"  said  the  old  man.  "I  am  glad  to  see 
you  weep.  There  is  every  sign  now  that  your  de- 
spair will  end,  for  hope  is  not  far  off  whenever  we 
indulge  in  the  sweet  joy  of  tears." 

Leaving  the  hut  together,  the  two  men  crossed 
the  field  with  the  sheep  bounding  before  them.  All 
day  long  they  sat  under  the  oak  tree,  herding  their 
fleecy  care.  At  nightfall  they  returned  to  the  hut 
and  in  the  morning  again  went  forth.  Thus  the  days 
passed  with  seemingly  monotonous  regularity.  Thus 
six  more  months  passed  away,  and  the  July  sun 
again  smites  with  his  rays  the  thirsty  fields. 

Although  the  mental  condition  of  Anthony  was 
somewhat  improved,  the  "dark  night"  still  enveloped 
his  soul.  He  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  time  in 
reading  "The  Imitation,"  and  listening  to  the  rem- 
iniscent stories  of  the  shepherd.  Sometimes  he  even 
wished  that  hope  might  again  become  a  part  of  his 
consciousness,  but  dismissing  it  as  a  vain  thought, 
he  would  again  relapse  into  his  despairing  reveries. 
Bat  nature  through  her  great  minister  time,  had 
begun  to  heal  his  wounds  of  sorrow.  Slowly,  almost 
unconsciously,  the  bitterness  and  keenness  of  his 
sufferings  diminished  and  he  could  contain  himself 
with  some  equanimity,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  sor- 
rowful memories. 

Aside  from  the  fact  that  his  mental  torture  was 
somewhat  mitigated,  another  element  had  injected 
itself  into  his  thoughts,  causing  him  great  anxiety. 
The  shepherd  had  told  him  only  recently,  that  the 
time  would  soon  come,  when  he  must  leave  his  hut. 

"My  hermitage  has  sheltered  you  for  the  past 
eighteen  months,"  he  said.  "You  must  not  always 
remain  with  an  old  man  like  me.  You  have  the 
higher  education,  combined  with  a  knowledge  of 
the  world.  Into  that  world  you  must  again  go 


160        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

forth.  It  is  your  field  of  effort.  You  are  young. 
The  world  is  still  before  you,  to  live  and  labor  in  it." 

Unhappy  Anthony!  When  and  where  shall  he 
go?  The  world  has  become  a  wilderness.  Oh,  that 
some  power  above  the  human  level  would  tell  him 
what  to  do!  His  benefactor,  rude  and  unlettered 
though  he  was,  had  done  him  a  most  signal  favor. 
He  had  sheltered  him  for  full  eighteen  months  and 
had  divided  his  scanty  fare  with  him.  He  could  do 
no  more.  It  was  but  natural  that  he  wished  his 
charge  to  return  to  the  world. 

In  this  unfortunate  condition  of  mind,  the  un- 
happy Anthony  would  picture  to  himself  a  lodge  in 
some  trackless  forest,  where  alone  in  his  solitude 
he  would  be  forever  hidden  from  the  gaze  of  man. 
There  like  an  Anchorite  of  Old,  he  would  force  the 
stubborn  earth  to  yield  the  few  roots  and  herbs 
which  would  suffice  for  his  sustenance.  There  he 
would  become  both  hermit  and  saint,  growing  daily 
more  holy  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord. 

Anthony  did  not  know  that  in  his  desire  to  serve 
the  Lord  in  this  state  of  perfect  abnegation,  he  was 
giving  his  heart  wholly  to  Him.  By  this  impelling 
desire,  he  was  drawn  insensibly  into  the  region  of 
Hope,  though  he  knew  it  not.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  he  had  begun  to  live,  as  if  God  and  he  were 
alone  in  the  world.  Oh,  blessed  be  the  man,  who 
feeling  the  Divine  impulse  within  him,  reaches  out 
thus  unconsciously  after  the  Divine  felicity! 

Yes,  Anthony  would  turn  recluse  and  give  him- 
self to  God.  The  pomp  and  glitter  of  the  world  he 
would  forever  abjure.  In  his  lonely  home,  be  it  on 
mountain  top,  or  verdant  plain,  in  fruitful  valley,  or 
on  inaccessible  peak,  he  would  be  alone  with  his 
Maker,  and  pour  out  his  orisons  perpetually  to  Him. 
To  what  heights  of  happiness  and  God-like  glory 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  161 

could  he  not  attain  in  this  ideal  state,  alone  amid 
the  solitudes  of  Nature.  There  the  day  would  break 
in  splendor,  and  the  diamonded  night  would  sooth 
his  spirit  and  whisper  into  his  ravished  ear,  her 
starry  secrets.  Oh!  that  his  prayer  might  be  heard 
and  the  conditions  be  fulfilled,  whereby  he  might 
attain  his  holy  desire.  What  a  life,  what  a  happi- 
ness, if  only  his  ideal  could  be  realized. 

But  he  had  overdrawn  the  picture.  It  was  a 
wild  flight  of  fancy.  It  was  not  for  him.  It  was 
merely  the  reflex  action  of  the  "dark  night,"  into 
which  his  soul  was  plunged.  It  was  well  for  a  saint 
to  indulge  in  ecstasies  and  visions,  for  he  was  enti- 
tled to  them.  But  for  him  it  was  far  better  to 
assume  the  role  of  penitent  and  ask  pardon  for  his 
sins  and  shortcomings  of  the  past.  Only  in  this  way 
could  he  attain  to  the  freedom  for  which  he  longed. 
Only  in  this  way  could  he  hope  to  regain  the  grace 
he  had  lost. 

Thus  did  the  Demon  Despair,  again  assert  his 
baleful  influence  over  him.  Again  direful  forebod- 
ings take  possession  of  his  mind,  and  a  phantas- 
magoria of  pictures,  in  which  venial  faults  mutliplied 
a  hundred  fold,  passed  before  his  distorted  vision. 
The  continual  succession  of  pictures  condemn  him 
for  his  folly  and  pride,  and  want  of  charity  during 
his  prosperous  past.  Hope  has  again  fled.  There  is 
and  can  be,  no  future,  for  the  soul  is  still  plunged 
in  the  "dark  night"  of  gloom. 


CHAPTER  xrn. 

A  Gleam  of  Hope. 

"Out  of  the  Depths  I  hare  cried  to  Thee,  O  Lori 

hear  my  voice!" 

With  these  words  of  the  ~De  Profundis"  OB  his 
lips,  the  unhappy  Anthony  threw  himself  OB  his 
wretched  bed  OB  a  certaiB  flight  IB  August.  OB  tins 

particular  night  the  rest  he  desired  was  not  long  in 
coming,  and  he  was  soon  sound  asleep.  About  mid- 
night he  awoke  suddenly  from  a  most  vivid  dream. 
In  far  away  Switzerland  he  had  been  with  Herminio. 
the  old  sage  of  the  mountains.  Startled  at  the 
vividness  of  his  dream,  he  sat  upright  in  his  bed 
and  peered  into  the  darkness.  Then  directly  above 
him  a  white  light  appeared,  and  he  knew  he  was  to 
be  accorded  a  vision.  Slowly  the  lieht  faded,  to 
appear  the  second  and  third  time.  Then  Bear  the 
ceiling  of  the  room,  clearly  outlined  agaias 
rounding  blackness,  there  appeared  the 
figure  of  an  anchor.  It  was  of  a  deep  violet 
and  glowed  and  pulsated  like  a  thing  of  fife. 
about  seven  seconds  it  renamed  m  •  Mitt  nl  •! IBB, 
and  then  slowly  faded  away  into  the  darkness, 

"An  anchor!  An  anchor!"'  exclaimed  the  happy 
Anthony.  Thank  God  for  the  vision  and  its  hopeful 
symbol.  I  shall  yet  be  saved.  And  extending  his 
clasped  hands  toward  the  ceiling,  he  hurst  iBto  ex- 
dbuaations  of  praise,  while  tears  of  gratitude  spraag 
to  his  eves  and  —a  down  his  chee-> 


164        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

For  some  moments  he  remained  motionless,  with 
his  hands  outstretched,  as  if  carved  from  stone. 
Then  slowly  regaining  his  composure,  he  sank  back 
on  his  pillow  and  wept  for  joy.  At  last  there  was 
hope.  But  what  a  signal  favor  had  been  accorded 
him!  Was  he,  the  despairing  man  worthy  of  such 
a  sign?  Did  the  vision  come  direct  from  God,  or 
from  one  of  His  Intermediaries?  Surely  his  despair- 
ing heart  would  find  consolation  now!  There  was 
still  something  for  which  to  live.  Some  power,  far 
above  the  sorrowing  world,  was  mindful  of  him! 
What  a  glorious  thought!  Some  invisible  agency, 
somewhere  in  the  universe,  some  glorious  intelli- 
gence apart  from  space  and  time,  had  deigned  to 
manifest  in  this  myserious  way,  hope  and  love  for 
him. 

In  this  state  of  newly  found  joy,  he  fell  back  on 
his  pillow,  but  not  to  sleep.  He  felt  that  the  vision 
in  some  unaccountable  way  was  related  to  his  dream 
of  Herminio.  In  the  dream  he  was  again  in  the 
lodge  of  the  sage.  He  saw  the  wild  goats  sporting 
on  ledges  of  rock,  and  the  soaring  eagles  making 
long  graceful  curves  around  their  mountain  eyries. 
In  the  sweet  converse  that  followed,  Herminio  had 
told  him  that  he  was  soon  to  receive  the  gift  of 
knowledge,  and  expressed  the  wish  of  meeting  him 
again.  Then  he  suddenly  awoke  and  in  full  waking 
consciousness,  the  vision  had  appeared. 

How  sweet  it  was  to  dream  of  Herminio!  To 
see  that  noble  form  and  hear  the  words  of  wisdom 
that  fell  from  his  lips.  Then  on  awaking,  to  behold 
the  Emblem  of  Hope,  glowing  in  violet  fire,  above 
him  in  the  darkness! 

Contemplating  on  his  happy  dream,  and  the 
wonderful  splendor  of  the  vision  that  had  been  ac- 
corded him,  Anthony  lay  awake  till  the  dawn.  On 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  165 

one  point  he  was  fully  resolved.  He  would  not  tell 
the  shepherd  of  the  vision.  He  held  it  as  something 
too  sacred  to  be  revealed.  He  would  hold  its  memory 
as  a  secret  in  his  own  heart;  too  sacred  for  utter- 
ance. Perchance  if  he  again  met  the  seer,  oh  happy 
thought,  he  would  tell  him  all.  But  only  he,  the 
old  sage  of  the  mountains,  might  know  his  mighty 
secret — only  he,  but  no  other  living  man. 

Hastily  dressing  himself,  Anthony  went  into  the 
adjoining  room  and  awoke  the  shepherd,  who  was 
still  sleeping  heavily.  The  old  man  though  some- 
what surprised  and  taken  back  at  the  intrusion,  at 
once  arose  and  putting  on  his  tattered  garments, 
remarked  that  he  would  soon  be  ready. 

"You  are,"  he  said,  regarding  Anthony  with  a 
critical  eye,  "very  early  this  morning.  "Can  it  be 
possible  that  my  scolding  has  done  you  good?  Al- 
though you  have  lived  with  me  full  eighteen  months, 
this  is  the  first  time  you  have  shown  enough  courage 
to  rouse  me  from  my  sleep.  I  trust  you  will  keep 
on  getting  more  confidence  and  banish  your  gloomy 
thoughts,  for  you  cannot  live  with  me  always." 

After  their  simple  breakfast,  the  two  men  re- 
paired to  the  field.  The  shepherd  could  not  fail  to 
notice,  that  his  charge  walked  with  a  more  elastic 
step.  He  surmised  that  this  was  due  to  his  constant 
admonitions  and  warnings.  And  he  congratulated 
himself  on  the  seeming  fact  that  he  alone  had 
brought  about  the  change. 

All  that  day  and  part  of  the  night,  Anthony 
busied  himself  in  reading  "The  Imitation."  Through 
the  instrumentality  of  the  vision  that  had  been 
accorded  him,  a  wonderful  light  had  illuminated  and 
was  beginning  to  make  plain,  the  deeper,  inner,  oc- 
cult meaning  of  the  writing  of  a  Kempis.  The  book 
was  a  mine  of  the  Christian  Faith,  and  now  through 


166        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

his  supersensuous  knowledge,  Anthony  was  enabled 
to  find  in  its  hidden  chambers,  veins  of  the  finest 
gold.  He  began  dimly  tov  percieve  the  meaning — 
the  hidden  meaning  of  the  words,  "Eternal  Life," 
and  the  "Kingdom  of  Heaven."  That  the  only  way 
to  happiness  and  ultimate  perfection,  is  through 
"The  Way  of  the  Cross,"  and  that  one,  must  of 
necessity  "live  the  life  in  order  to  know  the  doc- 
trine." 

For  the  first  time  since  his  affliction  had  been 
put  upon  him,  Anthony  was  living  in  the  atmosphere 
of  hope.  He  knew — had  positive  knowledge,  that 
his  salvation  was  at  hand.  No  longer  could  he  doubt 
his  final  victory  over  dispondency  and  fear.  He  was 
promised  hope  from  the  higher  Powers — Powers 
above  this  earth  and  this  universe,  had  pledged  him 
aid.  How  noble  it  was  to  think  that  he  was  related 
to  this  great  Hierarchy  of  Beings,  and  that  they 
made  use  of  this  beautiful  way,  to  manifest  their 
love  for  him. 

For  several  weeks  after  this  great  event  had 
come  into  his  life,  Anthony  was  for  the  greater  part 
of  the  time  wrapt  in  contemplation.  At  last  there 
was  a  Divine  order  in  the  Cosmos.  Ay,  more  than 
that,  the  entire  material  universe  was  mystical  in 
its  nature,  and  could  only  be  mystically  compre- 
hended. What  a  splendid  proof  of  the  need  of  Faith! 
To  what  great  heights  might  the  soul  ascend,  and 
what  ineffable  glories  would  reveal  themselves 
through  the  dim  vistas  of  eternity!  If  man  in  the 
flesh  was  allowed  to  view  a  portion  of  Reality,  and 
if  that  small  portion  was  so  surpassingly  beautiful, 
how  much  more  glorious  and  utterly  beyond  the 
conception  of  even  the  illuminated  soul,  must  the 
whole  of  that  ultimate  Reality  be!  According  to 
this  concept,  the  mystic  alone  was  the  only  man  who 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  167 

held  the  keys  to  the  riddle  of  Life  and  the  universe. 
Since  the  supreme  object  was  the  union  of 
the  soul  with  God,  it  necessarily  followed  that  the 
universe  itself  could  only  be  mystically  interpreted. 
It  was  the  Seer  then,  and  he  alone,  who  was  in  pos- 
session of  the  Divine  Elixir.  In  the  silence  of  his 
cell  when  friendly  night  overshadowed  him,  he  was 
through  the  higher  vision,  made  the  recipient  of  the 
Heavenly  secrets.  By  the  sanctity  of  his  life,  he 
was  put  in  communication  with  the  channels  of  the 
Divine  Grace  and  experienced  the  Mystical  union. 

Oh,  the  height  and  the  depth  of  that  wonderful 
love  that  the  Creator  shows  for  man!  How  won- 
derful that  relationship  between  creature  and  Cre- 
ator and  how  beautifully  it  manifests  itself  to  the 
earnest  and  aspiring  soul,  even  while  imprisoned  in 
a  body  of  flesh.  If,  the  faint  foreshadowings  of  the 
great  Reality,  bring  to  the  regenerated  man,  such 
superphysical  knowledge  of  the  majesty  of  God's 
love,  how  much  more  of  his  splendor  must  reveal 
itself  to  the  true  Mystic  and  the  Saint! 

Thus  were  the  thoughts  of  Anthony,  following 
on  the  days  immediately  after  his  marvellous  vision. 
Although  the  old  shepherd  knew  and  was  glad  that 
his  charge  had  improved  to  a  wonderful  extent,  he, 
however,  gave  himself  all  the  credit  for  the  change. 
For  eighteen  long  months  they  had  been  the  closest 
of  companions,  and  he  felt  endeared  to  him.  In  the 
early  morning  hours  they  had  driven  the  sheep 
before  them  to  the  place  of  pasturage,  and  through- 
out the  long  day,  the  shepherd  had  done  all  in  his 
power  to  cheer  the  disconsolate  young  man  by  relat- 
ing his  past  reminiscences.  Now  that  his  efforts  in 
this  direction  were  bearing  such  good  results,  he 
talked  less  of  his  own  exploits  and  sometimes  said 
very  little.  Thus  the  happy  Anthony  was  left  more 


168        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

and  more  to  his  own  reveries.  Giving  his  time  to 
day  dreams  and  the  reading  of  "The  Imitation,"  two 
more  months  passed  rapidly  away.  Although  he 
knew  he  was  soon  to  leave  the  home  of  the  shepherd, 
the  question  as  to  where  he  was  to  go,  and  what  he 
was  to  do,  did  not  now  give  him  any  great  anxiety. 
Before  his  experience  in  the  super-physical  world, 
this  problem  concerned  him  greatly,  but  now  in  the 
light  of  his  present  knowledge,  he  left  the  matter 
in  the  hands  of  a  higher  Power,  feeling  that  when 
the  time  was  ripe,  he  would  be  given  information 
to  guide  him  rightly.  He,  who  a  short  time  before, 
saw  only  chaos  and  disorder  in  the  universe,  now 
comprehended  through  a  re-awakened  faith  and  the 
higher  vision,  an  order  and  harmony  in  the  visible 
world,  and  appreciated  to  its  full  value,  the  mystical 
relationship  that  existed  between  God  and  man. 

So  the  days  began  to  lose  their  monotony  and 
the  nights  their  despairing  hours.  Nature  again 
paints  with  magic  colors  the  purple  East  when 
Phosphor  brings  the  dawn.  Again  there  is  music 
in  the  note  of  the  thrush  and  the  song  of  the  night- 
ingale. In  the  noisy  babble  of  the  brook  over  the 
rounded  pebbles,  there  is  hidden  a  melody  so  sweet 
and  beguiling,  that  the  senses  are  lulled  and  soothed 
as  if  by  enchantment,  and  the  ceaseless  chatter  of 
the  waters  is  transposed  into  a  rhythm  and  har- 
mony, steeping  the  faculty  of  the  awakened  spirit 
in  reverie  and  f orgetf ulness. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  a  perfect  day,  when  An- 
thony occupied  by  such  thoughts,  crossed  the  field 
and  wended  his  way  toward  the  hut  of  the  shepherd. 
The  witching  hour  of  twilight  held  the  landscape  in 
its  mystic  spell.  With  lingering  footsteps  he  loitered 
in  his  path,  admiring  the  beauties  that  visible 
Nature  spread  before  his  knowing  gaze.  He  beheld 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  169 

the  glories  everywhere  around  him,  with  more  than 
the  poet's  eye,  for  he  had  been  permitted  to  lift  a 
corner  of  the  veil  that  hides  the  great  Reality  be- 
yond. As  he  reached  the  hermitage,  the  short 
twilight  had  deepened  into  night  and  the  familiar 
constellations  coming  into  view,  filled  him  with 
thoughts  of  adoration  and  of  awe,  so  that  with  Job, 
he  could  exultingly  exclaim:  "Lo!  These  are  parts 
of  His  ways;  but  how  little  a  portion  is  heard  of 
Him.  The  thunder  of  His  Power  who  can  under- 
stand?" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  Subjective  Revelation. 

Cloud  towers  by  ghostly  masons  wrought, 
A  gulf  that  ever  shuts  and  gapes 
A  hand  that  points  and  palled  shapes 
In  shadowy  thoroughfares  of  thought. 

— In  Memoriam. 

When  the  penitent  and  troubled  soul  has  longed 
ardently  after  God — when  through  constant  aspir- 
ations it  seeks  only  the  Sovereign  Good,  it  exper- 
iences the  Mystical  Union  and  becomes  aware 
through  the  higher  vision,  of  its  relationship  to  its 
Divine  Author. 

Then  lost  in  the  contemplative  life  it  no  longer 
cares  for  the  pomp  and  vainglory  of  a  material 
world.  Turning  itself  inward,  it  has  discovered  a 
world  within  its  inmost  recesses — a  place  of  har- 
mony and  peace,  where  protected  from  the  distrac- 
tions of  physical  life,  it  enjoys  moments  of  ecstasy,, 
known  only  to  the  mystics  and  the  saints. 

It  has  been  said,  that  when  the  soul  reaches  this 
height  of  perfection — this  stage  of  the  Cosmic  con- 
sciousness,— that  it  is  constantly  guided  by  higher 
Powers  and  intelligences  and  made  to  perceive  more 
and  more  its  ultimate  glory  and  destiny.  Not  only 
does  the  Almighty  Father  make  His  presence  felt 
in  the  soul — nay,  more  than  that,  He  reveals  to  the 
Divine  fragment  now  seeking  union  with  Him, 
ocular  proof  of  His  existence,  and  demonstrates 


172        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

through  the  most  wonderful  phenomena,  His  great 
love  for  the  pure  in  heart. 

Several  weeks  after  his  remarkable  vision,  An- 
thony on  retiring  for  the  night,  observed  that  the 
walls  and  ceiling  of  his  room  were  filled  and  lit  up 
with  tiny  points  of  fire.  Now,  these  points  of  light 
gleaming  like  gems  against  the  background  of  the 
darkness,  did  not  cause  the  illuminated  Anthony  any 
fear.  Instead  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  rapture  and 
delight,  that  he  watched  the  little  points  of  flame 
that  transformed  his  homely  room  in  the  shepherd's 
hut  into  a  bower  of  jewels.  Sometimes  the  tiny 
lights  would  arrange  themselves  into  groups  of 
three  and  four,  and  leaving  the  wall  or  ceiling  make 
a  gradual  approach  toward  him.  When  within  a 
few  feet  of  his  bed  they  would  pause,  become  sta- 
tionary, and  returning  to  the  wall  or  ceiling,  the 
group  would  break  up  and  disappear.  Then  other 
groups  would  form  and  approach  him  likewise. 
They  were  of  the  most  beautiful  colors;  red,  yellow, 
green,  lavender,  blue.  Arranging  themselves  in 
fantastic  shapes  they  moved  majestically  toward 
him.  It  was  a  most  singular  fact,  that  while  the 
component  parts  of  each  group  were  in  constant 
motion  around  each  other,  yet  the  shape  of  the 
group  remained  unchanged.  With  eye  lashes  mois- 
tened by  tears  of  gratitude,  Anthony  watched  this 
silent  play  and  interplay,  of  the  higher  forces  of  the 
universe.  Slowly  emerging  from  wall  or  ceiling  or 
corner  of  the  room,  they  would  advance  and  retreat, 
mingling  their  little  orbs  of  light  in  everchanging 
shades  or  color. 

Night  after  night  it  was  the  privilege  of  Anthony 
to  watch  this  marvellous  display  of  the  super- 
sensuous  world.  Among  these  points  of  light  that 
were  continually  changing  color,  there  was  one 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  173 

which  burned  above  him  with  a  steady  ray.  It  was 
a  pale  yellow,  and  always  shed  its  lucid  rays  directly 
overhead.  Unlike  the  other  lights  which  were  con- 
stantly changing  place,  it  was  always  stationary  and 
retained  its  original  shade  of  color — a  pale  yellow. 
While  the  other  lights  advanced  and  receded,  rose 
and  fell,  coalesced  and  intermingled,  this  star-shaped 
sentinel,  held  his  shining  place  unmoved.  Like  a 
silent  watcher,  he  seemd  to  guard  his  lesser  lum- 
inaries in  their  astral  play. 

Now  there  were  nights  when  the  display  was 
less  brilliant  than  usual,  and  at  such  times  this  star- 
shaped  point,  would  naturally  seem  larger  and  more 
prominent.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  Anthony 
having  cause  to  leave  his  bed,  was  astonished  to 
find  that  this  light  followed  him.  It  was  stationary 
as  long  as  he  remained  still,  but  when  he  moved,  it 
also  changed  position,  keeping  its  place  always 
directly  overhead.  While  he  marvelled  much  at  the 
beauty  of  the  entire  super-physical  phenomena,  this 
particular  pale  yellow  star,  held  a  strange  fascina- 
tion over  him.  It  was  faithful  in  its  relation  to  him. 
Here  was  another  mystery.  It  was  a  phenomenon 
within  phenomena  by  which  he  was  surrounded. 

The  condition  of  Anthony  at  this  period  cannot 
well  be  described.  Through  his  aspirations  and 
longings,  he  had  been  brought  unconsciously  into 
Reality.  During  the  day  his  thoughts  would  con- 
stantly dwell  on  the  supernal  beauties  that  through 
the  higher  vision  had  been  accorded  him.  Along 
with  these  marvellous  experiences,  he  had  noticed 
a  recurrence  of  the  vibrations  that  he  had  felt  in 
the  days  of  his  youth.  He  remembered  that  at  that 
time  they  had  their  origin  in  the  pineal  gland  at 
the  base  of  the  brain,  from  which  they  proceeded 
downward  along  the  spine,  sweeping  partially  around 


174         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

the  body  and  terminating  at  the  waist  line.  Now 
the  vibrations  had  their  origin  at  the  top  of  the 
head,  and  while  greater  in  intensity  were  much 
finer,  sweeping  over  the  face  and  back  of  the  head 
simultaneously,  they  coursed  over  the  body,  ending 
and  spending  their  force  at  the  base  of  the  spine 
and  the  region  of  the  abdomen.  Anthony  noticed 
that  whenever  a  great  truth  was  flashed  into  his 
consciousness,  it  was  always  preceded  and  followed 
by  a  vibration.  Can  it  be,  he  thought,  that  they 
come  as  messengers,  heralding  the  glad  tidings  that 
the  soul  had  prepared  herself  to  be  the  recipient  of 
another  truth?  Wonderful  as  was  this  conception, 
he  found  it  to  be  really  the  case.  A  few  days  later, 
while  composing  two  short  poems  in  blank  verse, 
the  subject  matter  being  of  a  mystical  nature,  the 
thoughts  as  they  occurred,  were  accompanied  by 
vibrations.  He  also  discovered  that  if  he  attempted 
any  literary  work  in  the  absence  of  the  vibrations, 
the  thought  was  mediocre.  Thereafter  in  beginning 
any  work  of  this  kind,  he  always  held  himself  nega- 
tive, desiring  and  willing  nothing.  Then  after  he 
had  stilled  the  senses,  and  reached  the  contemplative 
stage,  the  vibrations  would  occur;  there  were  never 
less  than  two,  and  sometimes  three  and  four.  They 
.succeeded  one  another  rapidly.  The  duration  of 
each  vibration  was  from  six  to  ten  seconds,  while 
the  time  between  occurrences  was  from  forty  sec- 
onds to  a  full  minute. 

During  the  time  and  immediately  after  the  vis- 
itations, Anthony  felt  an  influx  and  an  expansion  of 
consciousness.  He  was  lifted  to  higher  planes  of 
Being  and  felt  an  ecstasy  and  elevation  of  spirit, 
that  far  outweighed  any  joy  of  the  flesh.  If  during 
those  moments  of  illumination,  he  reduced  his  im- 
pressions to  writing,  he  was  himself  amazed  at  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  175 

beauty  of  the  diction,  for  the  thought  had  birth  in 
light,  while  the  words  were  tinged  with  fire. 

In  all  this  phenomena  Anthony  saw  only  the 
working  of  Divine  Law.  While  the  world  itself  had 
lost  its  power  and  interest,  another  realm  of  Being, 
was  being  revealed  through  the  higher  vision.  In 
this  newer  world  Anthony  now  lived.  To  function 
in  this  world  and  learn  deeper  and  deeper  secrets  of 
Nature  and  the  splendors  of  Creation,  was  to  be  his 
glorious  privilege!  He  had  been  born  anew.  Were 
the  sufferings  he  had  endured  and  the  agony  he  had 
undergone,  but  the  birth  pangs  of  the  spirit?  Was 
he  stripped  of  all  earthly  possessions  so  that  he 
would  become  humble  and  pure  in  heart?  Had  the 
grosser  elements  of  his  nature  been  burned  and 
purged  away  so  that  his  consciousness  might  rise  to 
empyrean  heaights  of  thought? 

Occupied  with  these  reflections  he  ceased  to  be 
a  servant  of  time,  and  began  to  live  in  the  eternal. 
The  past  with  its  sad  memories  retreated  further 
and  further  back  into  the  consciousness  and  grad- 
ually lost  its  power  of  tyranny.  The  future  now 
gave  him  little  concern.  He  knew  that  in  following 
the  Divine  urgings,  which  he  must  do  to  live  the 
higher  life,  the  future,  rising  out  of  such  a  present, 
could  be  none  other  than  a  glorious  one. 

Living  in  such  a  state,  he  grew  daily  in  physical 
strength  and  spiritual  courage.  About  this  time  he 
noticed  that  his  dreams  were  becoming  more  vivid. 
Along  with  the  dream  experiences,  there  now  oc- 
curred some  times  during  sleep,  a  state  of  conscious- 
ness that  was  most  singular.  It  was  a  state  between 
waking  and  dreaming.  On  one  of  these  occasions, 
he  seemd  to  be  flying  through  the  air  over  a  moun- 
tain path  that  was  lined  on  each  side  by  a  stunted 
growth  of  trees.  Realizing  that  the  Higher  Powers 


176         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

now  ruling  his  life,  were  granting  him  this  privilege 
for  some  end,  he  framed  the  following  question 
mentally  and  thus  addressed  them: 

"Invisible  Forces,  that  guard  my  destiny,  I  would 
have  made  clear  what  you  desire  me  to  do?  How 
am  I  to  leave  the  home  of  the  shepherd,  and  where 
do  you  will  I  should  go?" 

As  he  asked  this  mental  question,  his  motion  in 
space  ceased,  and  his  light  body  became  poised  and 
stationary.  The  semi-twilight  suddenly  became 
dark,  and  out  of  the  blackness  there  appeared  before 
his  vision,  the  hand  of  a  man.  It  was  cut  off  slightly 
above  the  wrist,  and  the  knotted,  twisted  fingers 
showed  it  to  be  the  hand  of  a  peasant.  On  the  third 
finger  was  a  plain  band  silver  ring.  As  it  slowly 
faded  from  view,  another  hand  appeared,  belonging 
evidently  to  a  man  of  the  leisure  class.  The  palm 
was  not  wide  and  the  shape  was  regular.  On  the 
third  finger  was  a  gold  ring,  set  with  two  golden 
hearts.  Anthony  noticed  the  peculiar  shape  of  the 
ring  and  the  position  of  the  two  hearts  that  formed 
the  set.  Then  it  faded  into  the  night  and  a  third 
hand  took  its  place.  From  the  malformation  of  the 
thumb  and  the  shape  of  the  fingers,  Anthony  in- 
stantly recognized  it  as  the  hand  of  the  shepherd. 
As  it  faded  from  view  he  awoke  suddenly,  to  find 
himself  in  his  rude  bed,  under  the  roof  of  his  bene- 
factor. 

Two  days  after  this  remarkable  occurrence,  An- 
thony and  the  old  man  were  seated  as  usual  under 
the  oak  tree.  The  sheep  had  scattered  over  the  hills 
and  were  contentedly  cropping  the  short  grass  that 
grew  sparsely  between  the  rocks.  The  sincerity 
expressed  in  the  faces  of  the  two  men,  engaged  as 
they  were  in  simple,  earnest  conversation,  completed 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  777 

a  pastoral  picture  of  great  beauty,  to  be  found  only 
under  the  blue  sky  of  a  Sicilian  afternoon. 

"I  am  going  to  the  hut  early  this  evening,"  said 
the  old  man,  as  he  picked  up  his  shepherd's  crook, 
which  had  been  lyin^  on  the  ground  beside  the  tree. 
"When  you  come  I  will  have  the  supper  ready."  So 
saying  he  started  in  the  direction  of  the  hermitage, 
leaving  Anthony  alone.  Left  to  himself,  the  young 
man  fell  into  a  reverie.  He.  was,  however,  soon 
awakened  from  his  day  dream  by  the  appearance 
of  a  man  crossing  the  field.  As  he  approached,  he 
said  he  was  worn  out  from  the  heat  of  the  day  and 
wished  to  rest. 

Anthony  regarded  him  with  surprise.  It  was 
evident  he  had  come  from  a  long  distance,  for  he 
bore  the  marks  and  stains  of  travel.  Seating  him- 
self under  the  tree  beside  Anthony,  he  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  wiping  his  perspiring  face,  with  a  red 
handkerchief,  he  exclaimed: 

"May  the  Virgin  protect  me  for  undertaking 
such  a  journey.  Do  you  know  young  man,  that  I 
have  walked  all  the  way  through  Italy?" 

"Possibly  so,"  replied  Anthony.  "From  where 
did  you  start?" 

"From  the  little  village  of  Bergun,  in  Switzer- 
land," replied  the  traveller.  "I  was  born  in  Switzer- 
land and  lived  the  best  part  of  my  years  in  Bergun." 

"But  what  prompted  you  to  make  this  long  jour- 
ney overland?"  queried  Anthony. 

"Merely  my  love  for  novelty,"  rejoined  the  trav- 
eller. "Do  not  believe  that  poverty  constrained  me 
to  such  a  course,  for  I  am  not  a  poor  man.  The 
patrimony  my  parents  left  me,  amounted  to  a  snug 
little  fortune  according  to  Swiss  standards.  I  have 
an  only  brother  living  at  Palermo,  whom  I  have  not 
seen  for  ten  years.  Some  months  ago  I  resolved  to 


178         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

pay  him  a  visit.  After  my  preparations  were  made 
for  the  journey,  I  thought  it  would  be  a  most  novel 
experience  to  travel  alone.  Never  having  cared 
much  for  the  conventions  of  the  modern  world,  I  at 
once  proceeded  to  put  my  eccentric  notion  into  effect. 
I  have  been  over  two  months  on  the  way;  and  in 
spite  of  some  discomforts  occasioned  by  my  long 
tramp  through  Italy,  I  must  say  I  have  enjoyed  my 
novel  journey." 

Somewhat  amused  at  this  long  though  simple 
speech  of  the  traveller,  Anthony  sought  to  draw  him 
out  with  further  questions. 

"Is  this  the  first  time  you  find  yourself  in  Sicily?" 
he  asked. 

"Indeed  yes,"  replied  the  traveller.  "My  brother 
who  lives  in  Palermo,  is  an  exporter  of  lemons  and 
fruit.  It  was  on  his  account  that  I  undertook  this 
toilsome  journey." 

"Will  you  return  to  Switzerland  after  visiting 
your  brother?" 

"Surely.  It  is  my  home.  Its  wild  scenery  and 
lofty  peaks  have  nurtured  me  from  childhood.  Were 
you  to  see  my  country,  you  would  love  it  better  than 
your  own." 

"I  have  seen  it,"  replied  Anthony,  "though  seven 
years  have  passed  since  then." 

"And  pray  what  was  the  occasion  of  your  visit?" 

"It  was  on  my  honeymoon,"  replied  Anthony, 
and  as  he  uttered  the  words,  a  rush  of  such  unutter- 
able thoughts  came  over  him,  that  he  bowed  his 
head  in  his  hands. 

"And  why  should  the  mentioning  of  your  honey- 
moon cause  you  such  sadness  and  dejection?"  asked 
the  traveller. 

"Because  of  the  happy  scenes  that  are  forever 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  179 

past."  Then  Anthony  becoming  reminiscent,  re- 
lated the  story  of  his  life,  his  sorrows  and  sufferings. 

The  traveller  listened  with  great  interest.  When 
Anthony  had  finished  his  narrative,  he  was  silent 
for  some  time.  The  telling  of  the  story,  visibly  af- 
fected the  traveller.  He  lost  his  jocund  careless  air 
and  became  very  grave. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said  finally,  "what  are  your  plans 
for  the  future?" 

"Alas,  I  know  not,"  answered  Anthony. 

"Listen,"  said  the  traveller.  "Let  me  advise  you. 
You  say  you  have  been  an  instrutcor.  Now  do  not 
attempt  to  work  at  something  outside  of  your  call- 
ing. There  are  families  living  in  my  native  town 
of  Bergun,  who  would  gladly  employ  you  as  tutor 
for  their  children.  These  people  have  money  and 
they  will  pay  you  well.  Go  to  Bergun,  by  all  means. 
Were  I  in  your  place,  I  would  not  wait  another  day." 

"Possibly  so,  but  are  you  certain  I  will  find  em- 
ployment such  as  you  mention?" 

"I  am  positive  of  it.  Have  I  not  lived  there  all 
my  life,  and  am  I  not  intimately  acquainted  with 
every  family  in  the  place?  Then  besides,  you  speak 
French  fluently,  and  that  is  the  universal  if  not 
official,  language  of  the  canton.  Taking  all  in  all 
you  could  ask  for  no  happier  combination." 

As  he  thus  delivered  himself,  the  traveller  leaned 
idly  against  the  tree  and  held  his  arm  in  such  a 
position,  that  his  left  hand  was  exposed  to  full  view. 
To  his  amazement  Anthony  recognized  it  as  the 
first  hand  that  had  appeared  to  him  two  nights 
previous,  when  he  had  gone  into  the  super-physical 
condition.  It  was  an  exact  counterpart,  a  wide 
coarse  hand  with  the  knotted  fingers,  and  there  on 
the  third  finger  was  the  plain  band  silver  ring.  Re- 
covering quickly  from  his  surprise,  he  gazed  at  the 


ISO        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

ground  for  some  minutes  and  thus  communed  with 
himself : 

"Two  nights  ago  I  demanded  of  the  Forces,  when 
in  the  super-physical  condition,  what  they  would 
have  me  do.  On  making  this  demand,  there  in- 
stantly appeared  before  me  in  the  darkness,  the 
figure  of  a  man's  hand — a  wide  coarse  hand.  On 
the  third  finger  there  was  a  plain  band  silver  ring. 
Today  there  comes  before  me  in  the  physical,  a  man 
having  such  a  hand — an  exact  duplicate.  On  the 
third  finger  he  wears  a  plain  band  silver  ring.  He 
urges  me  to  go  to  Switzerland — to  the  little  village 
of  Bergun,  his  native  place.  Marvellous  phenom- 
enon! Is  this  the  answer  to  my  question?  Are  the 
invisible  Powers  now  guarding  me,  to  inform  me 
in  this  mysterious  way,  of  their  desire  and  their 
will?" 

Then  slowly  recollecting  himself,  he  raised  his 
eyes  from  the  ground  and  addressed  the  traveller: 

"I  think  well  of  your  advice,"  he  said,  "and  be- 
lieve I  will  follow  it."  I  have  been  over  eighteen 
months  a  guest  of  the  shepherd  who  lives  in  yonder 
hut.  He  has  been  very  kind  to  me,  but  the  time  has 
come  when  I  must  leave  him,  although  it  will  be 
with  great  regret.  Would  you  advise  me  to  start 
soon?" 

"Yes,  I  would  not  tarry  long.  You  have  been 
idle  a  long  time.  Sorrow  is  keener  when  you  are 
unoccupied.  Therefore  I  would  get  to  work  again 
as  soon  as  circumstances  would  permit.  But  do  not 
delay." 

"Well,  my  friend,  I  thank  you  for  your  counsel 
and  advice.  Is  there  anything  more  you  can  tell  me 
about  Bergun  and  its  people?" 

"No,  I  have  told  you  all  you  need  know  for  the 
present.  On  your  arrival  there,  you  will  find  a 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  181 

kindly,  hospitable  people  and  they  will  appreciate 
your  work.  You  will  find  it  a  joy  to  live  among 
them.  Now  I  must  resume  my  travel.  I  will  follow 
this  stream  and  camp  tonight  along  side  of  it. 
Adieu!  friend,  and  may  good  fortune  befriend  you. 
When  I  return  to  Bergun,  I  will  expect  to  find  you 
there.  And  now,  adieu!" 

At  these  words  the  mysterious  traveller  with  a 
motion  of  his  hand  waved  Anthony  a  last  farewell 
and  disappeared  down  the  dusty  road,  leading  to 
Palermo. 

On  the  day  following  Anthony  was  somewhat 
reticent,  talking  very  little  to  the  shepherd.  Late 
in  the  afternoon  he  felt  impressed  to  go  to  the  hut, 
and  making  some  slight  excuse,  started  for  the 
hermitage.  When  he  opened  the  rude  little  gate 
and  stepped  into  the  yard,  he  saw  a  man  on  horse- 
back coming  up  the  road.  When  opposite  the  hut, 
the  rider  drew  rein  and  dismounting,  walked  rapidly 
toward  him. 

"Tell  me,"  said  the  stranger,  "if  I  am  on  the 
right  road  for  Taormina?" 

"You  are,"  replied  Anthony. 

"I  am  travelling  through  the  country,"  he  con- 
tinued, "and  am  anxious  to  visit  Taormina  on  ac- 
count of  its  historical  associations.  I  suppose  you 
have  been  in  the  place?" 

"Yes,  though  it  has  been  some  years  ago.  Are 
you  travelling  alone?" 

"Yes,  1  am  alone,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  I  can  follow  my  own  impulses  and  there  is  no- 
body to  criticise  me  therefor.  It  is  a  liberty  I  have 
not  enjoyed  for  years.  Cramped  and  confined  in  a 
narrow  circle  of  daily  duties,  it  is  really  a  treat  to 
be  free  for  once  and  to  be  able  to  fling  custom  and 
convention  to  the  winds." 


182        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

From  his  conversation  and  deportment,  Anthony 
knew  the  gentleman  to  be  a  man  of  rank.  Inviting 
him  into  the  hut,  he  asked  him  what  his  occupation 
or  calling  might  be. 

"I  am,"  answered  the  stranger,  "a  teacher  of 
mathematics  in  the  university  of  Sorbonne." 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  Anthony.  "I  was  not  far  from 
right.  I  knew  you  were  a  man  of  learning.  But  I 
am  more  than  glad  to  hear  you  are  an  instructor  in 
the  famous  university  of  Sorbonne.  What  a  strange 
coincidence  that  we  should  meet  in  this  way.  Before 
the  cruel  hand  of  Fate  reversed  my  fortunes,  I,  too, 
was  a  teacher  in  the  university  of  Messina." 

"In  what  capacity?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"Italian  literature,"  replied  Anthony.  I  held  the 
chair  for  five  years,  until  the  Titanic  earthquake 
destroyed  Messina  and  deprived  me  of  my  family." 

"How  came  you  here,  and  what  are  your  plans 
for  the  future?" 

As  an  answer  to  this  question,  Anthony  related 
the  story  of  his  adventures  since  the  destruction  of 
Messina.  How  bereft  of  reason,  broken  in  body  and 
spirit,  he  wandered  through  the  ruins  in  search  for 
his  dead.  How  in  the  agony  of  spirit  he  walked  on 
for  four  full  days  through  the  wild  open  country, 
West  of  Messina.  How  the  kind  old  shepherd  had 
befriended  him,  and  proved  himself  a  good  Samar- 
itan, taking  care  of  him  as  a  father  would  protect 
his  child.  Of  his  slow  recovery  from  a  condition, 
that  was  bordering  for  months  almost  on  insanity, 
caused  by  grief  over  the  loss  of  family  and  posses- 
sions. 

"And  now,"  said  the  stranger,  after  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  narrative,  "since  your  condition  is  becom- 
ing normal,  what  have  you  in  mind  for  the  future?" 

"I  have  not  fully  decided  what  I  will  do.    It  is 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  183 

only  during  the  past  few  months,  that  my  mental 
condition  has  improved  to  such  an  extent,  that  I 
feel  confident  enough  to  undertake  anything  at  all." 

"I  understand  your  situation.  You  do  not  care 
at  present,  to  assume  a  position,  to  which  great  re- 
sponsibility is  attached.  But  I  have  in  mind  a  pro- 
ject you  might  take  up.  A  year  ago,  when  I  was 
spending  my  vacation  in  Switzerland,  I  visited  the 
little  town  of  Bergun  in  the  Tyrol.  I  found  there 
quite  a  number  of  well-to-do  families  who  employ 
tutors  for  their  children.  In  the  summer  months 
the  population  is  augmented  by  tourists,  who  as  a 
rule,  are  well  supplied  with  money.  Why  not  take 
up  this  line  of  work.  You  will  find  it  not  only 
pleasant,  but  profitable.  There  are  no  doubt  other 
places  in  Switzerland  where  you  could  find  more 
employment  of  the  same  character;  but  I  mention 
Bergun,  because  I  was  at  that  particular  place.  Were 
I  you,  I  would  go  to  Switzerland.  Visit  Bergun 
first;  you  may  go  to  some  other  town,  but  Bergun 
would  be  my  choice." 

"It  is  a  strange  coincidence,"  again  replied  An- 
thony, "that  only  yesterday,  a  traveller  passing  here 
in  the  fields,  advised  me  along  the  same  lines.  He  is 
an  inhabitant  of  the  village  of  Bergun,  having  re- 
sided there  all  his  life." 

"Ah,"  smilingly  replied  the  stranger.  "That 
gives  some  proof  to  my  contention.  An  advice  is 
always  regarded  as  having  weight  when  it  is  found 
to  share  the  views  of  another." 

"Yes,  it  adds  to  its  certainty.  But  do  you  think 
the  present  a  good  time  to  set  out  on  the  journey?" 

"There  could  be  no  better.  We  are  now  at  the 
beginning  of  the  summer  season.  Young  men  and 
women,  accompanied  by  wealthy  parents,  are 
streaming  into  Switzerland  from  all  sides.  They 


'184        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

like  to  mix  a  little  knowledge  of  science  and  liter- 
ature with  their  mountain  climbing.  This  gives 
you  a  capital  opportunity  you  should  not  neglect." 

"It  seems  feasible,"  replied  Anthony,  "and  I  am 
much  taken  up  with  the  idea." 

"It  is  just  the  thing  for  you;  just  the  opening 
you  need.  Then  too,  there  is  a  certain  kind  of 
independence  attached  to  this  kind  of  work,  which 
is  missing  in  other  vocations.  Your  pupils  are  for 
the  season  only.  With  some  of  them  it  is  quite  the 
fashion,  to  imbibe  a  little  learning,  along  with  their 
summer  rambles.  They  imagine  it  gives  them  social 
standing.  If  so,  well  and  good.  Let  them  imagine 
what  they  please,  but  seize  the  opportunity  never- 
theless, and  you  can  provide  yourself  with  a  com- 
fortable income  and  enjoy  a  measure  of  independence 
while  following  your  chosen  line  of  work." 

With  these  words  the  stranger  raised  his  left 
hand  very  carefully  and  placed  it  gently  on  the  table. 

"I  had  the  misfortune  yesterday,"  he  continued, 
"to  sprain  my  wrist;  it  gives  me  acute  pain  at  times 
and  I  must  be  careful  not  to  do  it  further  harm." 

Anthony  scrutinized  the  hand  very  closely.  It 
was  an  exact  duplicate  of  the  second  hand  that  had 
appeared  to  him  on  the  night  when  he  was  in  the 
super-physical  condition.  The  well  formed  hand  of 
a  gentleman  of  the  leisure  class.  The  narrow  palm, 
the  neatly  kept  fingers  and  nails,  and  there  on  the 
third  finger  was  the  gold  ring,  set  with  two  golden 
hearts.  Too  surprised  to  say  anything,  Anthony 
remained  silent. 

"I  must,"  finally  exclaimed  the  traveller,  "be  on 
my  way,  or  the  night  will  overtake  me.  Do  not 
forget  to  follow  my  advice;  for  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart,  I  believe  it  will  be  to  your  best  interest." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  185 

Then  he  strode  out  of  the  hut  and  Anthony  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  gate.  The  sun  had  almost  set, 
and  the  trees  and  hills  were  casting  their  longest 
shadows. 

"Farewell,"  said  the  traveller,  "we  may  never 
meet  again,  but  I  wish  you  good  luck  and  fortune 
on  the  Alpine  heights  of  Switzerland.  When  you 
arrive  there,  you  might  write  me  a  letter.  Here  is 
my  Paris  address." 

Writing  his  street  and  number  on  the  leaf  of  a 
memorandum  book,  he  tore  it  out  and  gave  it  to 
Anthony.  Then  bidding  him  a  last  good-bye,  he 
turned  his  horse  into  the  road  and  started  off  to- 
ward Taormina. 

When  Anthony  returned  to  the  hut,  he  found 
the  shepherd  busily  engaged  preparing  the  supper. 
Of  the  visit  of  the  two  men  who  had  given  Anthony 
their  mysterious  advice,  he  knew  nothing,  nor  was 
he  told  anything  regarding  it.  There  is  a  law  that 
prevents  the  recipient  of  occult  knowledge,  from 
divulging  his  information  to  anyone  not  functioning 
on  his  plane.  Although  Anthony  did  not  know  of 
the  existence  of  such  a  law,  he  obeyed  it  uncon- 
sciously and  kept  his  secrets  in  his  own  heart. 

That  night  he  retired  early  but  not  to  sleep.  The 
astral  display  on  this  particular  evening  was  less 
brilliant  than  usual,  only  a  few  scattered  points  of 
light  being  visible  on  the  walls  and  ceiling.  In  the 
absence  of  the  customary  splendor,  it  was  a  singular 
fact  that  the  bright  yellow  star,  which  always  shone 
overhead,  burned  with  much  greater  brilliancy — so 
bright  in  fact,  that  little  tiny  rays  of  light  shot  out 
from  it  in  all  directions;  thus  heightening  the  effect 
of  the  mysterious  phenomenon  with  their  slender 
golden  beauty. 

Under  the  light  of  his  guardian  star,  Anthony 
felt  secure.  A  deep  sense  of  peace  and  harmony 


186        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

possessed  his  soul,  and  in  this  happy  state,  his 
thoughts  went  back  to  the  events  of  the  past  few 
days.  New  occurrences  having  strange  occult  mean- 
ing, were  being  thrust  upon  him.  A  few  nights 
previous,  he  had  demanded  of  the  invisible  Forces, 
the  knowledge  as  to  what  he  was  to  do.  Three 
hands,  each  of  a  distinct  character  and  each  bearing 
certain  marks,  had  appeared  successively  in  the 
darkness.  Since  then,  two  men  having  hands  which 
are  exact  duplicates  have  advised  him  to  go  to 
Switzerland.  This  then,  was  the  answer  to  his 
question,  and  in  this  occult  way,  the  Forces  had 
answered  it.  What  was  this  strange  power  that 
was  thus  advising  him?  What  marvellous  intelli- 
gence was  this,  that  outside  and  beyond  space  and 
time,  showed  him  a  care  and  friendship  beyond  all 
human  bounds? 

The  third  hand,  that  of  the  shepherd,  still  re- 
mained to  be  accounted  for.  What  message  would 
the  old  man  hold  for  him?  Would  he  too,  advise 
him  to  go  to  far  away  Switzerland?  Surely,  he 
also  had  a  part  to  play  in  this  strange  phenomena? 
This  was  still  to  come,  and  with  this  thought  upper- 
most in  his  mind,  Anthony  lay  awake  till  far  into 
the  night  and  finally  fell  into  a  quiet  sleep,  under 
the  rays  of  his  guardian  star. 

The  next  morning  he  accompanied  the  old  man 
to  the  field  as  usual.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  the 
conversation  turned  on  Anthony's  future.  The 
shepherd  in  his  stoical  way,  being  the  first  to  men- 
tion it. 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  "that  you  are  now  on  the 
way  to  a  normal  condition  of  health  and  spirit.  Have 
you  any  idea  as  to  what  you  intend  to  do;  for  surely 
a  man  at  your  age,  must  still  have  hope  and  interest 
in  some  kind  of  a  future?" 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  187 

For  some  moments  Anthony  was  silent.  It  was 
evident  from  the  analogy,  that  the  old  man  had  a 
part  to  play,  but  what  the  part  was  to  be,  Anthony 
himself  did  not  know.  He  must  answer  the  shep- 
herd's question,  but  he  must  conceal  from  him  the 
advice  he  had  received  from  the  two  strangers  a 
few  days  previously.  With  these  thoughts  in  mind, 
he  raised  his  eyes  from  the  ground  and  framed  the 
following  answer: 

"Yes,  it  is  true  that  of  late,  I  have  wondered 
greatly  as  to  what  the  future  held  for  me.  Every 
man  has  a  call  for  some  kind  of  work,  and  I,  like 
all  other  men,  have  my  special  call.  In  thinking 
over  what  the  future  might  have  in  store  for  me, 
I  have  during  the  past  few  weeks,  lived  over  again 
in  memory,  the  happy  experiences  of  my  honeymoon 
trip  in  picturesque  Switzerland.  I  remember  vividly 
that  when  I  came  through  the  little  village  of  Ber- 
guri,  I  was  somewhat  surprised  at  the  great  number 
of  tutors  who  were  employed  by  wealthy  families 
and  tourists.  The  tourists  especially,  seemed  to  be 
very  much  taken  up  with  this  means  of  obtaining 
knowledge.  Now  I  have  been  impressed  with  the 
idea  of  going  to  Switzerland.  In  this  little  town  of 
Bergun,  I  would  find  remunerative  employment. 
There  in  my  chosen  life  work  is  a  field  for  my 
efforts;  but  alas  you  know  I  have  not  the  means  to 
defray  the  expense  of  such  a  journey." 

"Have  no  anxieties,"  replied  the  old  man.  "We 
can  easily  overcome  the  seeming  difficulty.  The 
main  thing  to  be  happy  over  is  the  fact  that  you 
have  enough  confidence  in  yourself  to  make  the 
journey  and  undertake  the  work.  You  will  remem- 
ber that  when  you  first  came  here,  I  told  you  how 
I  relieved  a  traveller  of  his  gold.  How  the  priest 
had  pardoned  me,  and  finally  the  traveller  himself 


188        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

appeared  at  my  house,  one  night,  and  refused  to 
accept  the  coins  even  when  I  confessed  to  him  I  was 
the  man,  and  offered  to  make  restitution.  You  will 
remember  that  I  told  you  I  put  the  twelve  pieces 
hack  in  the  little  iron  pot,  and  buried  them  under 
the  oak  tree  in  the  yard  near  the  hut.  These  twelve 
pieces  of  gold  I  will  give  to  you.  The  amount  is 
enough  to  cover  all  the  cost  of  your  journey.  So 
that  the  wrong  I  did  to  one  man,  will  redound  to 
the  good  and  benefit  of  another." 

As  the  shepherd  finished  speaking,  his  face 
beamed  with  joy.  It  was  evident  that  the  sum  he 
had  offered  his  charge  was  not  given  half-heartedly. 
He  did  not  try  to  conceal  his  feelings  from  Anthony. 
On  the  contrary  he  gave  way  to  them  altogether, 
and  with  the  spontaneity  of  a  boy,  said  he  would 
go  at  once  to  the  hut,  procure  a  spade  and  proceed 
at  once  to  dig  up  the  gold. 

This,  then,  was  the  part  the  shepherd  was  to 
play.  The  owner  of  the  third  hand  which  appeared 
to  him  in  the  super-physical  state,  was  to  defray 
the  expense  of  his  journey,  and  wish  him  God-speed 
on  his  way.  What  a  wonder  was  this!  The  occult 
Forces  had  again  demonstrated  their  mystic  power. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  now  but  to  obey.  Aware 
that  he  was  now  being  guided  by  the  higher  invis- 
ible Forces,  Anthony  felt  intuitionally  that  he  must 
trust  them  without  question.  He  had  reached  that 
point  in  his  evolution,  where  the  Great  Ones  of 
earth,  were  influencing  his  life  and  actions  by  occult 
secrets  and  processes,  and  while  he  realized  that  it 
was  a  glorious  privilege  to  be  so  placed,  yet  he  felt 
that  loyalty  and  obedience  to  them,  was  now  his 
sacred  bounden  duty. 

On  the  following  day  he  made  ready  to  set  out 
on  his  long  journey.  The  old  man  gave  him  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  189 

twelve  pieces  of  gold  and  accompanied  him  as  far 
as  the  site  of  Messina.  At  some  distance  from  the 
site  of  the  old  city,  Anthony  boarded  a  steamer  at 
the  pier,  and  took  leave  of  the  old  shepherd.  After 
the  last  adieus  were  said  and  the  steamer  had  moved 
out  into  the  straits,  the  old  man  remained  on  the 
pier  until  the  vessel  faded  from  view. 

Anthony  felt  keenly  the  sense  of  separation. 
His  benefactor  had  showed  him  the  greatest  kind- 
ness and  had  cared  for  him  as  a  fond  parent  might 
care  for  his  own  child.  And  now  they  had  parted 
and  possibly  would  never  see  each  other  again.  But 
they  had  met  for  a  purpose.  It  was  not  accident  or 
caprice,  that  had  thrown  them  together;  for  An- 
thony now  believed  that  everything  that  occurs, 
occurs  under  law.  That  all  events,  human  and  super- 
human alike,  are  under  the  domain  of  rigorous  iron 
law,  and  that  the  entire  universe,  both  visible  and 
invisible,  is  linked  together  by  an  eternal  chain  of 
causation. 

Three  days  later  the  steamer  reached  Genoa. 
From  there  Anthony  crossed  over  into  Switzerland 
and  soon  reached  the  little  town  of  Bergun.  Here 
he  remained  several  days,  and  while  greatly  admir- 
ing the  sylvan  beauty  of  the  place,  set  as  it  was 
amid  the  rugged  mountains,  he  seemed  to  forget 
the  object  of  his  visit,  and  instead  of  applying  him- 
self to  the  business  in  hand,  wandered  over  the 
mountains,  amid  the  same  solitudes  where  in  com- 
pany with  his  beloved  Regina  he  had  spent  his 
honeymoon  six  years  previously.  On  the  third  day 
of  these  rambles,  a  feeling  of  depression  took  hold 
of  him  and  he  became  dejected  and  melancholy. 
After  all,  why  had  he  come  to  Switzerland?  Surely 
he  was  not  a  man  of  means,  to  spend  the  time  idly 
in  Alpine  passes,  viewing  the  beauty  of  the  moun- 
tain scenery.  He  had  been  advised  to  come  here  in 


190        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

the  capacity  of  tutor,  to  impart  knowledge  to  those 
who  wished  to  be  taught  privately,  but  he  was 
making  no  start  in  that  direction.  Something  kept 
him  from  even  making  inquiries  regarding  the  work. 
As  he  thus  communed  with  himself,  he  reached  the 
foot  of  a  narrow  path  that  was  lined  on  both  sides 
by  a  stunted  growth  of  oak  trees.  Instinctively  he 
began  to  walk  up  the  path.  Where  had  he  seen  that 
path  before?  Then  he  remembered,  that  on  that 
memorable  night  in  the  home  of  the  shepherd,  when 
he  had  gone  into  the  super-physical  state,  he  had 
seemed  to  fly  through  space  over  a  mountain  path 
lined  on  both  sides  by  a  growth  of  trees.  Here  was 
the  path  identically  the  same  as  it  had  appeared  to 
him  in  the  higher  consciousness.  On  both  sides 
were  the  stunted  trees.  As  he  advanced  along  its 
stoney  way,  the  road  became  suddenly  familiar,  and 
as  he  reached  an  open  space,  there  was  revealed 
standing  in  the  doorway  of  a  hermitage,  a  venerable 
old  man,  whose  flowing  white  beard  reaching  to  his 
waist,  reminded  Anthony  of  the  Patriarchs  of  Old. 
In  the  dying  glory  of  the  sunlight  his  bronzed  fea- 
tures seemed  to  glow  with  a  celestial  radiance,  so 
pure  and  noble  were  his  thoughts.  As  Anthony 
came  near,  the  old  man  smiled  in  recognition,  and 
embraced  him  tenderly,  saying: 

"So  Anthony,  my  son,  has  at  last  returned." 
"Yes,"  replied  Anthony,   "he  has  returned,   to 
find  in  your  blessed  society,  everlasting  rest  and 
peace." 

Then  Anthony  wept  for  joy,  and  bowed  his  head 
on  the  shoulder  of  Herminio  the  Seer. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Master  and  His  Pupil. 

Attentive,  and  with  more  delighted  ear,  'Thy  words 
Divine  instructor,  1  have  heard,  than  when 
Cherubic  songs  by  night  from  neighboring  hills 
Aerial  music  send.' 

— Paradise  Lost. 

When  after  devious  wanderings  through  that 
interminable  wilderness,  called  the  physical  world, 
the  evolving  soul  reaches  at  last  the  broad  sunlit 
plateaus  that  border  on  the  Land  of  the  Spirit,  it 
experiences  a  peace  and  joy  past  all  human  descrip- 
tion. Having  made  a  search  for  happiness,  in  a 
world  of  illusion,  and  having  found  its  search  to 
have  been  in  vain,  it  gives  way  to  despair.  Then 
it  is  that  sorrow  united  to  despair,  forces  it  to  re- 
treat within  itself,  and  there  it  finds  the  precious 
jewel  it  has  so  long  cherished — so  long  prized.  Then 
for  the  first  time  in  its  existence,  the  awakened  soul 
becomes  conscious  of  its  relation  to  its  Lord — the 
Divine  fragment,  knows  and  realizes  the  mystical 
relationship  existing  between  it  and  its  Creator. 

A  week  has  passed  since  Anthony  arrived  at  the 
home  of  Herminio.  It  is  early  morning.  The  sun, 
with  his  glorious  rays,  has  lit  up  the  peaks  and 
eyries,  while  the  valleys  below  are  partly  veiled  in 
shadow.  Seated  in  the  doorway  of  the  hermitage, 
the  seer  and  his  pupil  are  in  earnest  conversation. 
Anthony  sits  at  the  feet  of  his  teacher,  with  his 


192        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

right  hand  resting  on  the  knee  of  his  venerable  in- 
structor. Gazing  into  the  depths  of  those  pale  blue 
eyes  that  reveal  behind  them  an  indomitable  spirit, 
he  rapturously  exclaims: 

"Tell  me,  Oh  master,  what  is  that  unseen  force 
which  brought  us  first  together,  and  after  years  of 
separation,  united  us  again?  Why  am  I  so  happy 
in  your  presence,  and  how  was  I  impressed  to  under- 
take the  long  journey  that  brought  me  ultimately 
to  you?" 

"In  answer,  my  son,"  replied  Herminio,  "I  must 
go  back  to  the  time  of  your  boyhood.  In  your 
earliest  recollections,  you  will  remember  that  you 
were  imbued  with  a  love  for  knowledge,  and  admired 
Nature  in  her  myriad  manifestations  of  form  and 
change.  At  the  tender  age  of  four,  you  came  under 
my  guidance  and  became  my  charge.  As  you  pro- 
gressed toward  boyhood,  your  thirst  for  knowledge 
increased,  while  your  love  of  visible  nature  became 
so  great,  that  at  the  age  of  eleven  years,  you  would 
take  long  walks  over  the  wooded  mountains  and  in- 
dulge in  long  reveries.  You  not  only  beheld  the 
beauty  of  nature,  but  you  felt  it  as  well — felt  it  in 
your  inmost  Being.  From  that  time  forward,  you 
became  a  nature  worshipper.  You  lived  in  the  hills 
and  vales,  and  exulted  to  hear  the  echoes  as  they 
bounded  and  rebounded  from  crag  to  crag,  and  peak 
to  peak,  until  they  were  lost  in  the  depths  of  remote 
canyons.  In  active  moods  of  nature  you  were  also 
a  keen  participant.  The  rustling  of  the  leaves  in 
the  forest,  was  to  your  ravished  ear,  a  melody  more 
beguiling  than  that  which  came  from  an  Aeolian 
harp,  in  the  hands  of  a  skillful  musician." 

"Now,  one  of  the  unmistakable  signs  of  an  ad- 
vanced soul,  is  this  intense  love  for  the  beauties  of 
nature.  The  poet,  the  philosopher,  the  sage  and  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  193 

saint,  are  all  nature  worshippers.  It  is  a  universal 
mark  of  depth  of  soul  and  purity  of  heart.  The 
Christian  Beatitude,  "Blessed  are  the  Pure  in  Heart, 
for  they  shall  see  God,"  takes  on  a  new  and  most 
wonderful  meaning,  when  we  have  evolved  suffi- 
ciently to  know  that  they  who  love  nature,  are  given 
to  meditation — the  deepest  form  of  prayer.  In  these 
blessed  moments  of  meditation,  the  soul  reaching 
upward  to  the  One  Reality,  functions  on  higher 
planes  of  Being,  and  linally  ascends  into  the  tene- 
braes  surrounding  God." 

"Now  all  these  marks  of  a  pure  and  advanced 
soul,  you  manifested  in  childhood  and  early  youth. 
As  time  passed  and  early  manhood  approached,  you 
took  up  science  and  philosophy,  following  a  course 
of  action  which  all  advanced  souls  have  followed  in 
the  past,  and  will  follow  in  the  future." 

"But  with  all  these  seeming  virtues,  you  had 
not  reached  to  that  purity  of  heart,  which  the  Chris- 
tian Beatitude  implies.  On  the  contrary,  there  was 
an  element  of  pride  in  your  nature,  which  allied  you 
with  the  selfish  intellectuals  of  your  time  and  coun- 
try. For  years  you  essayed  to  discover  the  secrets 
of  nature  through  the  planes  of  the  intellect.  I 
remember  well  with  what  solicitude  I  watched  your 
early  struggles.  Then  you  met  a  young  woman  and 
experienced  the  passion  of  physical  love.  Later, 
you  married  her.  A  son  blessed  your  union — Angelo 
you  called  him.  How  tender  and  yet  how  strong 
was  this  gift  from  heaven  which  bound  you  to  your 
wife — your  beloved  Regina.  What  a  vision  of  hap- 
piness! A  young  professor  in  an  official  position, 
whose  heritage  was  honor  and  riches  and  the  good 
will  of  men.  Surely  such  blessings  are  all  that  are 
asked  of  heaven  by  the  ordinary  soul.  But  you  asked 
for  more.  Your's  was  not  the  ordinary  soul.  You 


194        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

longed  for  knowledge.  You  aspired  to  know  the 
Great  Reality  that  lies  beyond  the  world  of  illusion. 
In  your  searchings,  after  truth  you  delved  deep  into 
the  heart  of  Plato,  and  brought  forth  from  that 
mighty  consciousness,  images  of  the  Divine  Beauty. 
About  this  time  you  will  remember  that  on  a  par- 
ticular night,  you  dreamed  that  you  stood  at  the 
base  of  a  high  mountain,  whose  distant  summit  was 
outlined  boldly  aginst  the  blue  ether.  Your  perilous 
journey  up  this  mountain,  was  symbolical  of  the 
pain  and  anguish  you  were  to  experience  in  the 
physical  world  on  the  pilgrimage  toward  Reality. 
The  stream  of  crystal  water  in  which  you  bathed 
your  bleeding  feet  and  hands,  was  a  symbol  of  the 
River  of  Life  in  whose  vivifying  waters,  all  bruises 
and  wounds  are  made  whole  and  healed.  Lastly, 
the  Temple  of  Knowledge,  that  edifice  of  marvellous 
beauty,  white  as  the  driven  snow,  would  not  suffer 
you  to  enter  through  its  sacred  portals,  "until  you 
had  overcome  the  superhuman  ordeal  of  making  the 
Unity  with  Self." 

"Now  the  loss  of  your  wife  and  child,  and  your 
worldly  possessions,  was  the  means  which  the  Divine 
Providence  brought  about  in  order  that  you  could 
make  this  very  Unity  with  the  Self.  During  the 
first  stages  of  the  ordeal,  you  cried  out  in  anguish 
to  the  Almighty  Power  to  let  the  chalice  of  bitter- 
ness pass  from  your  lips.  So  cried  every  evolving 
soul  in  the  past — so  will  they  cry  out  in  the  future. 
But  there  is  no  turning  back.  Once  the  call  for 
knowledge  has  been  sincerely  made,  the  soul  must 
go  on  and  endure  the  ordeal." 

"You  speak  as  though  you  had  gone  through  a 
similar  experience,"  interrupted  Anthony. 

"My  son,"  replied  the  sage,  "I  would  have  you 
know  that  I  have  sounded  the  depths  of  all  human 
experience;  what  you  have  suffered  and  endured, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  195 

that  have  I  also  experienced  in  agony  and  tears. 
The  emotions  of  the  poor  human  heart,  must  be 
successfully  overcome  if  we  would  attain  to  super- 
physical  knowledge.  If  we  would  lift  the  veil  that 
separates  us  from  the  world  of  illusion,  we  must 
learn  to  control  the  heart,  which  binds  us  to  that 
world.  This  is  no  easy  matter.  In  truth  it  is  the 
most  Herculean  task  that  was  ever  required  of 
mortal  man.  I  have  said  mortal,  but  in  reality  the 
man  who  has  reached  this  stage,  is  more  than 
mortal,  otherwise  he  would  not  be  able  to  live 
through  the  ordeal.  The  Wise  Ones  of  earth  never 
put  this  test  on  any  soul,  unless  that  soul  has  been 
awakened  into  Life.  For  many  years  prior  to  the 
awakening,  it  has  been  the  particular  business  of 
these  Wise  Ones,  to  bring  this  evolving  soul  to  the 
point  of  realization.  That  accomplished,  it  is  then 
made  to  endure  the  severest  of  all  trials,  the  most 
agonizing  ordeal,  and  this  is  nothing  less  than  its 
crucifixion  on  the  Cross  of  Matter." 

"Now  the  Crucifixion  has  an  allegorical  meaning, 
and  it  is  the  allegorical  side  in  which  we  are  now 
interested.  After  his  death  on  the  Cross  of  Matter 
— that  is,  after  he  has  died  to  the  physical  world 
and  its  illusions — there  comes  a  time  immediately 
after — the  Resurrection,  when  the  soul  living  on  a 
higher  plane  of  Being,  is  controlled  and  influenced 
by  occult  arts  and  processes,  until  at  last  having 
lost  all  interests  in  the  lower  world,  it  seeks  seclusion 
on  lonely  mountain  top,  or  desert  plain,  and  this  in 
very  truth,  is  its  ascension  into  heaven." 

"Now  I  have  given  you  the  chief  points  in  the 
history  of  that  stupendous  drama  of  the  soul,  on  its 
way  to  Godhood.  I  know  that  you  cannot  grasp  the 
great  truths  and  appreciate  their  meaning  and  im- 
portance is  so  short  an  outline,  so  it  will  be  necessary 


196        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

to  go  more  into  details,  in  order  that  the  great  prin- 
ciples that  underlie  human  life,  may  be  brought  out 
more  clearly." 

"I  know  of  no  better  method  in  the  way  of 
presenting  the  great  truths  that  are  vital  to  all 
humanity,  than  by  a  recital  of  the  incidents  that 
took  place  during  the  years  of  my  early  manhood. 
As  each  soul  is  a  part  of  the  Great  Life  that  ani- 
mates Creation,  it  necessarily  follows  that  the  ex- 
periences and  sufferings  of  one  soul,  will  find  a 
responsive  chord  and  sympathetic  kinship  in  all  the 
others." 

"On  the  occasion  of  your  first  visit,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  I  told  you  I  was  born  in  Thessaly,  not  far 
from  the  celebrated  Vale  of  Tempe.  My  father  was 
a  shepherd  and  in  this  rustic  occupation,  I  loved  to 
share.  When  a  mere  child,  I  followed  my  parent 
day  after  day,  over  the  plains,  and  helped  in  the 
tending  of  the  sheep.  How  well  I  remember  the 
time  when  he  taught  me  to  play  on  the  reed,  and 
how  proud  I  was  when  at  last  I  mastered  the  rudi- 
ments of  the  art  and  was  able  to  play  the  simple 
melodies  that  echoed  over  the  hills  and  dales  of  our 
sylvan  retreat.  These  were  the  happy  years  of 
childhood.  How  quickly  they  passed!  Soon  I  grew 
into  a  stalwart  youth,  rustic  and  uncouth — bronzed 
and  tanned  by  the  wind  of  the  Thessalian  plains. 
But  withal  I  was  a  lover  of  nature,  a  sharer  in  her 
active  moods  as  well  as  her  passive  states.  At  the 
age  of  eighteen  I  suffered  an  irretrievable  loss.  My 
parents  died.  With  my  patrimony  I  went  to  Paris, 
France,  and  entered  the  university  of  that  name. 
There  I  absorbed  knowledge  like  a  sponge  absorbs 
water.  But  after  six  years  of  study,  the  ways  of 
the  world  and  false  standards  of  life  that  I  observed 
in  the  wicked  place,  made  me  long  for  the  hills  and 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  197 

vales.  The  call  was  so  strong  that  I  obeyed  it.  A 
certain  physician  who  seemed  to  have  my  interest 
at  heart  advised  me  to  go  to  Switzerland.  I  came 
on  here  to  Bergun.  When  the  train  reached  Switzer- 
land, my  heart  beat  lighter.  I  was  returning  to  that 
environment  I  had  so  loved  in  my  childhood.  So 
ravished  was  I  with  this  thought  of  independence 
and  freedom,  that  my  muse  took  possession  of  my 
Being,  and  induced  me  to  write  the  following  lines 
before  I  reached  Bergun.  To  the  poem  I  gave  the 
title:  'Farewell  to  the  City.'  So  impressed  was  I 
with  the  originality  of  the  composition,  that  I  can 
now  recall  every  word  and  will  recite  it  for  you. 

FAREWELL  TO  THE  CITY 
I  left  the  growing  city  in  its  pride 
And  crossed  long  leagues  of  desert  wilderness 
To  reach  the  far  confine  my  spirit  loved, 
The  country  village,  with  its  narrow  streets, 
Whose  shaded  walks  and  porticos  appeal 
Forever  to  my  fancy.    Here  I  find 
The  place  where  man  meets  man  on  common 

ground, 

Unfettered  by  convention  and  false  pride 
Oft  found  in  evidence  in  city  streets. 
I  love  the  villagers — their  simple  ways, 
With  lives  so  humble  and  withal  so  pure, 
That  sage  and  poet  praise  their  characters. 
Here  Nature's  noblemen  are  found, 
Whose  speech  so  truthful  coming  from  the  heart, 
Oft  wets  the  cheek  with  sympathetic  tears. 
Farewell  proud  city;  I  despise  thy  ways 
And  hurry  onward,  through  this  wilderness 
To  distant  farms  and  villages,  to  seek 
That  sweet  content  for  which  my  spirit  longs, 
And  like  the  sages,  and  the  bards  of  Old, 
I'll  steep  thy  memory  in  forgetfulness, 
To  find  true  pleasures  in  the  woods  and  fields. 


198       THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"On  reaching  Bergun,"  continued  Herminio,  "I 
fell  in  love  with  the  place  and  took  up  my  abode 
with  an  old  man  who  called  himself  Elpenor.  He 
lived  in  a  small  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village. 
He  was  a  very  learned,  yet  withal  a  very  unassum- 
ing man.  I  can  never  forget  him,  for  he  was  my 
teacher,  who  took  me  through  the  dangerous  years 
of  my  awakening  into  life.  At  first  I  knew  nothing 
of  his  greatness,  nor  of  the  high  stage  to  which  he 
had  attained  in  that  great  hierarchy  of  Beings,  of 
which  he  was  an  initiated  member.  But  I  grew  to 
love  him,  for  he  was  indeed  a  philosopher,  who 
seemed  to  see  into  the  very  hearts  of  men.  For 
three  years  I  lived  under  his  roof,  caring  for  no 
other  society.  Together  we  tilled  the  few  acres  of 
ground  that  furnished  us  sustenance,  and  during 
the  long  evenings,  he  would  read  me  stories  from 
the  ever  living  pages  of  Fenelon  and  Lamartine. 
But  I  noticed  above  all  things  that  he  insisted  on  a 
purity  of  heart.  Be  always  innocent,  and  pure  of 
heart,  he  would  say,  for  it  is  given  to  the  pure  in 
heart  and  they  alone,  to  know  of  the  mysteries  of 
God." 

"And  so  for  three  years  we  dwelt  together. 
Often  I  would  ask  him  what  he  meant  by  Self- 
knowledge,  the  living  Waters  of  Life,  and  the  mys- 
tical States  of  Consciousness,  to  which  he  now 
sometimes  referred.  His  answer  was  that  in  a 
short  time  I  would  know — that  my  soul  was  now 
reaching  that  point  in  its  evolution,  where,  what  he 
termed  the  Great  Awakening,  was  about  to  occur. 
I  remember  this  period  of  my  life  very  clearly.  I 
began  to  long  for  knowledge  in  itself.  The  sayings 
of  the  wisest  philosophers  failed  to  satisfy  me.  The 
famous  exploits  of  gods  and  heroes,  as  set  forth  in 
the  Homeric  and  Virgilian  hexameters,  seemed  to 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  199 

have  lost  their  soul  stirring  appeal.  I  longed  to  get 
at  the  heart  of  things.  The  world  had  become  an 
idle,  passing  show — a  cheap  theatre,  wherein  the 
plays  were  staged  by  ambitious  worldly  men,  who 
courted  the  applause  of  worldlings — for  the  audience 
as  well  as  the  actors,  were  moved  and  swayed  by  the 
lowest  physical  impulses  and  desires." 

"One  night.  Ah!   How  I  remember  that  eventful 
night,"  exlaimed  the  seer,  as  his  gaze  rested  lovingly 
on  the  face  of  his  pupil,  "I  was  awakened  suddenly 
from  a  profound  sleep.    From  my  bedroom  window, 
I  saw  the  crescent  moon,  then  at  its  second  quarter, 
low  in  the  West.     Directly  opposite  my  bed  there 
was  another  window,  that   opened  on   the   North. 
Looking  through  this  window,  as  I  had  so  often  done 
before,  I  was  struck  with  the  deep  blue  color  of  the 
sky  and  noticed  certain  stars  that  I  knew,  did  not 
belong  to  that  quarter  of  the  North.    To  make  the 
phenomena  still  more  surprising,  the  old  constella- 
tions with  which  I  had  been  so  familiar,  were  alto- 
gether missing  from  that  part  of  the  heavens.    Then, 
as  if  by  magic,  white  clouds  appeared  and  formed 
themselves  into  bands,  hiding  for  a  moment,  the 
golden  stars  from  view.    These  bands  kept  in  rapid 
motion  and,  as  they  occulted  certain  stars,  others 
would  come  into  the  field  of  vision.    Although  I  ad- 
mired this  beautiful  display,  I  could  not  account  for 
it.     The  clouds  were  moving  too  rapidly,  and  the 
lights  could  not  possibly  be  stars.    No  doubt  a  storm 
might  be  approaching,  and  the  strange  occurrence 
was  due  to  some  disturbed  condition  of  the  atmos- 
phere.   I  must  investigate.    So  rising  from  my  bed, 
I  made  a  light.    Imagine  my  terror  when  I  found  I 
had  not  looked  through  the  window  at  all,  for  the 
curtain  was  drawn  closely  over  it.    In  the  fear  which 
seized  me,  I  trembled  so  violently  that  I  let  the  light 


200        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

fall  from  my  hands,  and  the  room  was  again  in 
darkness.  Then  on  the  curtain  and  on  the  wall  for 
a  distance  of  two  or  three  feet  on  each  side  of  the 
widow,  the  vision  again  reappeared.  There  was  the 
blue  sky  and  behind  the  white  ever-moving  bands 
of  clouds,  the  twinkling  stars  would  appear  and  dis- 
appear, making  a  picture  of  exquisite  beauty.  Then 
fear  took  such  possession  of  me  that  I  fell  violently 
on  my  bed,  and  when  I  recovered  myself,  to  look 
again  at  the  vision,  it  was  slowly  disappearing,  and 
finally  faded  away  into  the  night." 

"The  next  morning  I  told  my  teacher  and  master, 
the  story  of  my  marvellous  experience.  But  my 
narrative  did  not  in  any  way  excite  him.  Instead 
he  seemed  to  be  in  an  expectant  mood  and  took  my 
story  as  a  matter  of  course.  Gazing  at  me  from  the 
very  depths  of  his  spiritual  eyes,  he  addressed  me 
as  follows: 

"My  son,"  said  he,  "you  have  for  the  first  time  in 
your  existence,  been  granted  the  privilege  of  lifting 
the  veil  that  separates  one  plane  of  nature  from 
another.  You  now  know  there  is  a  higher  depart- 
ment of  nature  than  the  world  in  which  you  have 
always  functioned.  Now  this  is  self-knowledge. 
You  have  not  been  asked  to  believe — you  have  not 
been  told.  You  have  seen.  Having  advanced  to  the 
rank  of  those  advancing  spirits,  who  function  con- 
sciously in  this  higher  world,  you  become  a  part  of 
their  consciousness,  you  have  risen  to  their  level 
and  on  this  higher  level  they  can  communicate  with 
you." 

"For  a  long  time  I  was  silent.  Overcome  with 
awe  and  wonder,  in  the  presence  of  the  Great  Truth, 
I  could  scarcely  form  an  intelligent  question.  Finally 
recovering  myself,  I  thus  addressed  my  master: 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  201 

"Elpenor,"  I  exclaimed,  "if  I  have  respected  you 
in  the  past,  I  must  adore  you  in  the  future.  Before 
the  greatness  and  majesty  of  the  truth,  I  am  silent. 
Before  you,  my  master,  I  bow  in  recognition." 

"At  these  words,  the  venerable  man  smiled  and 
replied:  You  do  not  owe  me  adoration.  For  ador- 
ation and  worship  belong  to  God  alone;  but  you  do 
owe  me  confidence  and  loyalty.  As  your  master  I 
am  bound  to  aid  and  direct  you.  It  is  my  mission 
to  teach  the  Great  Truth  to  those  who  have  awak- 
ened into  life.  You  are  willing  to  receive.  I  am 
bound  to  give.  It  is  the  Law. 

"Then  you  cannot,"  I  interposed,  "keep  this 
knowledge  for  yourself? 

"No,"  he  replied.  "For  I  have  become  a  channel 
of  the  Divine  Life.  Exalted  souls  on  still  higher 
stages  of  evolution,  are  constantly  giving  me  knowl- 
edge. Now  these  exalted  souls  are  fed  and  nourished 
by  other  Beings  in  conditions  of  nature  still  more 
exalted.  So  that  the  number  of  hierarchies,  that 
function  in  the  mystical  states  of  Being,  is  infinite, 
endless  and  eternal." 

"Seeing  that  I  was  absorbed  in  thought  and  re- 
ceptive, the  master  continued: 

"You  are  now  recognized  as  a  pupil,  who  has 
commenced  the  long  pilgrimage  toward  reality.  In 
the  past  that  lies  behind  you,  you  made  the  journey 
unconsciously;  but  from  now  on,  you  will  unfold 
your  powers  consciously,  and  proceed  every  step  of 
the  way  in  light  and  knowledge.  As  a  proof  of  this 
higher  consciousness,  you  have  been  given  astral 
vision — the  power  of  piercing  the  veil  that  separates 
the  physical  from  the  astral  world.  Henceforth 
your  viewpoint  of  life  will  be  altogether  changed. 
For  some  years  you  will  remain  a  pupil,  until  you 
have  received  sufficient  knowledge,  when  in  turn 


202        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

you  will  become  a  teacher.  Receiving  knowledge 
from  the  Great  Ones,  through  your  intuition  and 
astral  experiences,  you  will  pass  it  on  to  others  who 
are  awakening  into  life.  Overwhelmed  with  the 
great  truth  and  lost  on  Avonder,  they  will  come  to 
you  for  help  and  guidance.  It  will  become  your 
privilege  to  assist  them  on  the  perilous  way  to 
Reality,  and  in  this  your  bounden  duty,  you  will  find 
the  greatest  joy  and  consolation.*' 

"For  five  more  years,"  continued  Herminio,  "I 
remained  with  my  master.  I  was  a  worthy  pupil 
and  as  I  grew  in  compassion  and  purity  of  heart,  he 
unveiled  to  me,  more  and  more  of  the  mighty  secrets 
of  Nature.  When  at  last  extreme  old  age,  caused 
the  physical  encasement  that  enshrined  his  noble 
spirit  to  wear  away,  he  predicted  the  day  and  hour 
of  his  death.  Then  on  a  certain  summer  evening, 
he  laid  down  on  his  couch  and  composed  himself  as 
if  he  fain  would  sleep.  Assuring  me  that  after  the 
dissolution,  he  would  often  be  with  me  on  the  inner 
planes,  he  pressed  my  hand  two  or  three  times,  and 
passed  away  as  easily  as  a  child  falling  asleep.  Cov- 
ering him  with  water  lilies,  symbolical  of  his  purity 
of  heart,  I  remained  with  him  alone  till  the  dawn, 
that  being  his  wish.  On  the  morrow,  assisted  by  a 
few  friends  from  the  village,  we  buried  his  body  in 
the  country  church  yard.  Then  I  retired  to  this 
place  and  built  my  hermitage.  You  are  now  my 
pupil,  from  a  pupil  you  will  in  time  become  also  a 
master  with  other  pupils  under  your  charge.  But 
come,  the  morning  wanes.  Let  us  go  forth  for  a 
ramble  over  the  hills.  I  know  you  are  a  lover  of 
super-sensuous  knowledge,  but  that  in  the  meantime 
you  still  appreciate  the  beauties  of  your  present  en- 
vironment, for  to  the  aspiring  conscious  soul,  even 
physical  nature,  is  ever  fair." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
Alexis  the  Singer. 

Pleasures  that  were  your  own  of  old 
May  be  enjoyed  through  others  still; 
No  man  will  then  complain  of  us 
Care  for  ourselves  was  all  we  had; 
Through  all  life's  process  various 
You  must  have  virtue  to  be  glad. 

— West-Eastern  Divan. 

The  sage  and  his  pupil  continued  their  wander- 
ings over  the  hills  the  rest  of  the  morning.  Pausing 
at  times  to  linger  in  the  shade  of  some  knotted  oak, 
Herminio  would  become  reminiscent  and  related  in- 
cidents that  had  occurred  to  him  during  his  long  res- 
idence in  these  rugged  mountain  regions.  Late  in 
the  afternoon,  when  they  had  again  paused  to  rest, 
the  sage  told  Anthony  that  a  certain  young  man  of 
great  attainments  and  rare  beauty  of  face  and  form, 
visited  him  at  intervals.  "He  is  due  here  again  this 
afternoon,"  continued  the  old  man.  "If  I  mistake 
not  he  is  coming  now,"  then  pointing  out  a  narrow 
path  which  had  been  cut  through  the  underbrush,  he 
indicated  the  direction  from  which  the  youth  gener- 
ally approached.  Anthony  looked,  and  beheld  a 
youth  coming  up  the  path.  He  was  possessed  of 
great  beauty,  and  could  not  have  been  more  than 
twenty  years  of  age.  His  long  golden  hair  hung  in 
loose  curls  over  his  neck  and  shoulders.  His  robe 
was  of  deep  blue,  fastened  at  the  waist  with  a  golden 
girdle.  In  his  left  hand  he  carried  a  silver  lyre. 


204        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Striking  the  strings  with  his  right,  he  filled  the 
grove  with  dulcet  echoes,  accompanying  them  all  the 
while  with  short  stanzas  of  song  as  he  proceeded. 
When  suddenly  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of 
the  sage  and  his  pupil,  he  droped  his  lyre  on  his  knee 
and  exclaimed: 

"Good  master,  is  this  the  new  pupil  of  whom  you 
have  told  me  so  much,  and  have  been  awaiting  so 
long? 

"Yes  it  is  he,"  replied  Herminio.  "In  him  you 
see  another  added  to  my  list  of  sons.  His  name  is 
Anthony  and  I  find  him  a  most  worthy  pupil.  He 
endured  his  ordeal  well." 

"Greetings,  Anthony,"  said  the  stranger,  and 
bowing  low,  he  added:  "My  name  is  Alexis.  I  am 
a  wandering  poet  and  my  home  is  in  Greece;  al- 
though I  prefer  to  call  my  country  by  its  ancient 
name,  Hellas,  because  it  sounds  much  sweeter  to 
me." 

Anthony  was  too  much  embarrassed  to  make  any 
reply.  In  the  sudden  appearance  of  so  beautiful  a 
singer,  he  felt  abashed  and  confused. 

"I  crave  your  pordon  if  I  have  caused  you  any 
embarrassment,  by  my  complacent  air  and  careless 
mien,"  observed  the  young  man,  as  he  slightly  tilted 
liis  glorious  head  and  gazed  into  the  eyes  of  Anthony. 
"I  know  I  am  impulsive  and  open  minded — too  much 
so  sometimes.  However,  we  poets  cannot  help  that. 
It  is  our  nature  to  be  that  way.  Trouble  and  care 
and  sorrows  of  the  lower  world  have  so  long  been  out 
of  our  consciousness,  that  we  act  as  natural  as  the 
birds  that  flit  about  in  yonder  tree.  To  them  life  is 
all  joy.  So  it  is  to  me.  The  whole  visible  world  is 
an  epitome  of  beauty.  There  is  beauty  of  soul  as 
well  as  beauty  of  form,  and  the  more  beautiful  the 
soul,  the  more  beautiful  the  form.  Of  this  world  of 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  205 

changing  forms,  it  is  my  privilege  to  sing.  It  is  my 
expression  of  life.  I  think  in  metre  and  breathe 
forth  my  thoughts  in  harmony  of  numbers.  This 
afternoon  while  on  my  way  to  visit  my  master,  I  ex- 
ulted to  be  a  recipient  of  the  bounty  of  Ceres.  The 
goddess  is  due  all  praise,  I  thought,  for  the  munifi- 
cence she  bestows  on  us  in  the  autumn.  With  these 
sentiments  in  mind,  I  dedicated  to  her  the  following 
lines;  which  I  will  sing  for  you: 


A  TRIBUTE  TO  CERES 
L 

When  Ceres  in  the  autumn  days, 
Brings  gifts  of  grain  and  wine, 
And  wheat  and  corn  and  yellow  maize 
And  products  of  the  vine, 

Once  more  I  view  her  statue  crown'd, 
Her  form  in  sheaves  arrayed; 
Once  more  I  see  on  sacred  ground, 
Her  votive  offerings  laid. 

Once  more  through  all  the  sylvan  land, 
The  golden  harvest  smiles; 
Once  more  the  goddess  waves  her  hand, 
Through  all  the  Grecian  isles. 

On  heights  where  dwelt  the  mountain  goat, 
Where  shaggy  satyrs  ran; 
Where  some  lone  shepherd  raised  his  note, 
To  pipe  the  songs  of  Pan, 


206        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

And  where  the  Ancient  Glory  fades, 
Her  marble  altars  glare; 
And  Hellas'  dames  and  Hellas'  maids, 
Her  worship  still  declare. 

II. 

What  days  of  rest  and  peace  prevail! 
What  care  the  time  relieves, 
When  Ceres  over  hill  and  dale 
Her  magic  curtain  weaves; 

A  curtain  of  the  mists  of  dawn, 
Whose  web  the  goddess  fills 
With  clinging  lights  and  shadows  drawn, 
From  Grecian  mounts  and  hills. 

Oh!  time  of  vision  and  of  dream, 

What  beauteous  forms  unveil! 

What  fancies  teem;  what  strange  lights  gleam 

What  shining  vapors  sail! 

'Tis  then  the  nights  enchantment  bring, 
For  great  Orion  sweeps, 
A  mighty  and  imperious  king, 
Across  the  sapphire  deeps. 

There  princely  cohorts  guard  his  throne, 
And  on  the  stellar  way, 
Obesiance  make  from  realms  unknown, 
i     And  equal  homage  pay. 

All  night  the  jewell'd  hosts  traverse, 
The  star  bespangl'd  plain, 
And  at  the  break  of  morn  immerse 
Their  bright  swords  in  the  main. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  2OJ 

For  now  the  dawn  hath  conquered  night 
And  Phorphor's  lustre  pales, 
Half  hidden  in  the  purple  light, 
Which  Ida's  mount  unveils. 

Behold  the  day  her  splendor  lifts! 
The  shepherd  sounds  his  flute; 
In  praise  of  Ceres  and  her  gifts, 
I  strike  my  tuneful  lute, 

And  make  the  quiv'ring  cords  prolong, 
Their  joyful  melody; 
Until  I  hear  her  votaries  song, 
Still  echo  back  to  me. 


As  the  last  note  died  away,  Alexis  lowered  his 
lyre  and  looked  into  the  faces  of  his  listeners,  as  if 
for  an  expression  of  approval. 

"You  are,"  said  Anthony,  "a  sweet  singer,  and 
have  paid  in  your  glowing  lines,  a  very  splendid 
tribute  to  the  goddess  Ceres  for  her  gifts.  The  au- 
tumn, with  its  glorious  tints  and  fruitful  fields  has 
inspired  your  muse  to  this  noble  effort.  But  tell  me 
more  of  your  home  in  Greece,  or  Hellas,  as  you  pre- 
fer to  call  it?" 

"That  I  cannot,"  replied  the  young  Adonis.  "Our 
venerable  master  will  inform  you  on  these  points  if 
you  so  desire  it.  As  I  make  my  visits  very  short,  I 
do  not  care  to  take  up  the  time  with  minor  details. 
My  life  is  one  harmonious  song,  and  to  song,  I  offer 
up  myself.  I  do  not  descend  to  common-places.  Were 
I  to  do  so,  I  would  incur  suffering,  and  that  is  not  re- 
quired of  me  now.  In  my  present  state  I  experience 
only  the  joy  of  living.  And  when  true  glorious  life 
leaps  in  the  veins,  I  cease  to  be  a  man  of  clay  and 


208        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

claim  my  relationship  with  the  gods.  In  my  beloved 
Hellas,  my  ancestors  of  Old  proved  to  the  world  that 
they  had  the  Divine  Ichor  in  their  veins.  While 
their  country  was  small,  yet  their  hearts  were  large, 
and  the  fame  of  the  philosophers  and  poets  of  Hellas 
survive  down  to  the  present  day.  It  is  a  law 
that  whosover  possesses  beauty  in  his  soul,  can  never 
die;  and  so  I  point  with  pride  to  the  illustrious  line 
of  my  predecessors  from  Homer  to  Anacreon.  Their 
fame  can  never  die  as  long  as  the  world  has  a  mem- 
ory. The  universe  is  more  beautiful  because  of  the 
truths  to  which  their  lives  gave  expression.  Even 
now  on  the  exalted  planes  where  they  are  at  present 
functioning,  souls  here  on  earth  who  are  worthy  of 
claiming  kinship  with  them,  are  sometimes  allowed 
to  get  in  touch  with  their  vibrations,  and  thereby 
receive  pearls  of  truth,  adorned  in  the  most  beauti- 
ful language.  Now  as  my  visit  is  short  and  I  must 
confine  myself  to  the  work  in  hand,  I  appear  before 
you  in  the  character  of  a  lyric  poet  only.  An  actor 
who  plays  in  tragedy,  if  given  encouragement,  does 
not  reappear  before  the  audience  in  a  comedy  scene. 
Nay,  more,  if  called  before  the  footlights  he  must 
wear  a  grave  expression,  for  a  smile  at  such  time 
would  be  out  of  place  and  ruin  his  work.  Likewise 
I,  in  the  character  of  a  lyric  poet,  if  commended  for 
my  effort,  can  only  express  my  gratitude  by  the  reci- 
tation of  another  of  my  effusions;  after  which  I  will 
take  my  leave." 

"Desire  on  the  part  of  the  poet,  is  to  make  the 
world  more  beautiful  and  the  truth  more  loved.  If 
he  would  scale  Parnassian  heights,  he  must  himself, 
first  of  all,  be  a  lover  of  the  true,  the  beautiful  and 
the  good.  If,  with  this  end  in  view,  he  constantly 
aspires  beyond  the  illusive  veil,  that  shuts  him  in,  as 
a  prisoner  in  the  material  world,  he  will  finally  pierce 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  209 

that  veil  and  bring  from  a  higher  world  visions  of 
great  beauty,  This,  the  great  masters  of  every  Art 
have  always  done  and  are  ever  striving  to  do.  In 
the  short  lyric  which  I  will  now  recite,  you  will  ob- 
serve the  height,  and  a  height  sublime  it  is,  to  which 
the  real  poet  ever  aspires.  Then  striking  the  strings 
of  his  beautiful  instrument,  Alexis  awoke  such 
echoes  that  it  seemed  as  if  even  the  trees  and  stones 
would  be  affected  by  the  wonderful  melody,  With 
form  erect,  and  head  slightly  thrown  back,  he  re- 
minded one  of  the  Greek  raphsodists  of  Old,  As  the 
plaintive  melody  lulled  his  listeners  into  a  state  of 
receptivity,  he  began  to  sing  the  following  lines,  to 


THE  POET'S  ORISON. 

When  thrust  into  the  world's  mad  throng, 
I  lose  the  power  to  sing, 
And  mount  the  dizzy  heights  of  song 
On  Pegasean  wing, 

One  only  solace  there  remains, 

My  lost  joy  to  restore ; 

One  means  to  break  the  tyrant's  chains, 

And  feel  the  pain  no  more. 

In  some  deep  grove's  sequester'd  shade, 
I'll  seek  a  fairy  bower, 
And  there  await  the  muse's  aid, 
That  brings  the  raptured  hour. 

Beneath  some  friendly  waving  palm, 
Or  regal  oak  or  pine; 
I  will  intone  the  sacred  psalm, 
And  court  the  faithful  Nine. 


210        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

And  then  the  shadows  will  depart, 
My  lost  joy  will  return; 
Again  I'll  praise  the  muse's  art; 
Again  my  thought  shall  burn. 

And  I  will  hail  the  lambent  flame 
Illumining  my  theme, 
And  know  the  source  from  whence  it  came, 
And  catch  the  fitful  gleam, 

That  lights  the  province  of  the  eye, 
From  unseen  realms  afar, 
And  sheds  a  radiance  on  the  sky, 
And  scales  the  farthest  star. 

Until  the  Cosmos  is  made  fair, 
By  her  inspiring  word; 
And  all  creation  doth  declare 
The  Glory  of  the  Lord. 


When  the  poet  reached  the  closing  lines  of  his 
song,  Anthony  glanced  at  Herminio,  to  note  any  sign 
of  approval  the  sage  might  make,  then  he  turned  to 
look  at  Alexis,  when  to  his  astonishment  he  found 
that  he  had  disappeared. 

"Good  master,"  he  exclaimed,  "what  has  become 
of  the  beautiful  Alexis?  A  few  seconds  ago  he 
chanted  the  words  of  his  song,  and  now  he  has  dis- 
appeared as  quickly  as  if  he  had  vanished  into  air." 

"My  son,"  replied  Herminio,  "Alexis  visited  us 
in  his  astral  body.  When  he  told  you  his  home  was 
in  Greece,  he  really  meant  that  he  lived  there  now. 
Of  course  you  inferred  that  he  was  here  on  a 
personal  visit.  But  that  was  not  the  case.  The 
beautiful  youth  who  has  won  your  love  and  ap- 
probation, by  his  striking  figure  which  discloses  a 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  211 

nobility  of  soul,  far  beyond  the  worldly  model,  visits 
me  only  at  rare  intervals,  Two  weeks  hence  he  will 
again  visit  us;  but  on  that  occasion  his  band  of  play- 
ers will  accompany  him.  The  spectacle  is  for  your 
benefit;  being  full  of  beauty  and  mystery,  it  will  be 
presented  on  the  night  of  the  full  moon.  Now  let  us 
retrace  our  steps  to  the  hermitage  for  the  sun  is  al- 
most set  and  we  do  not  wish  night  to  overtake  us." 

On  their  way  to  the  hut  there  was  very  little 
speech  between  the  two  men.  After  the  supper  had 
been  disposed  of,  Anthony  took  up  the  Greek  copy  of 
the  plays  of  Euripides,  while  his  beloved  master  re- 
mained silent,  wrapped  in  meditation. 

On  the  following  morning  at  the  usual  hour,  An- 
thony seated  himself  in  the  doorway,  at  the  feet  of 
Herminio,  for  his  daily  lesson.  The  relationship  be- 
tween teacher  and  pupil  was  so  well  understood,  that 
verbal  orders  on  the  part  of  Herminio  were  not  nec- 
essary. 

"In  your  first  lesson  yesterday,"  began  the  sage, 
"I  gave  you  an  outline  of  the  phenomena  in  my  own 
personal  case  at  the  time  of  my  Awakening  into  Life. 
Now  each  soul  has  a  different  experience  in  this  re- 
gard; and  although  I  know  by  my  higher  powers 
every  super-physical  incident  through  which  you 
have  gone,  yet  I  wish  to  hear  in  your  own  language 
the  first  intimation  of  your  Awakening." 

"It  was  during  the  last  year  of  my  married  life," 
replied  Anthony,  "that  I  began  to  feel  what  you 
term,  the  awakening,  A  burning  desire  for  knowl- 
edge seized  me  and  gave  me  no  rest  day  or  night.  I 
began  to  lose  interest  in  all  mundane  affairs,  While 
I  loved  my  wife  and  child  devotedly,  yet  there  were 
times  when  even  in  their  society,  this  longing  for 
knowledge  became  so  strong,  that  I  was  totally  ob- 
livious to  my  suroundings,  I  seemed  to  have  drifted 


212        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

away  from  the  physical  world.  One  night  I  dreamed 
a  most  divine  dream,  I  was  standing  in  a  meadow, 
the  grass  in  the  place  coming  almost  within  half  the 
distance  to  my  knees.  Suddenly,  on  turning  to  the 
left,  I  beheld  a  young  man  of  marvellous  beauty, 
standing  very  near  to  me.  He  was  white  as  the 
driven  snow,  his  entire  body  looking  like  a  marble 
statue  endowed  with  life.  His  hair,  his  eyes  and 
even  his  eyelashes  and  eyebrows,  were  white  as  wool. 
Gazing  at  him  in  reverential  awe,  I  asked  him  if  he 
was  Antinous  of  Rome,  for  his  clear  cut  features  and 
curly  hair,  seemed  to  remind  me  of  him,  At  my 
question  he  smiled  and  said,  "Yes,  Come,  follow  me." 
Then  he  extended  his  hand,which  I  clasped  in  mine 
and  we  seemed  to  sweep  along  over  the  ground.  I 
cannot  describe  the  expansion  of  consciousness  that 
took  place  within  me  in  the  presence  of  this  mar- 
vellous Being.  It  seemed  my  soul  had  expanded  to 
unusual  limits  and  I  felt  such  a  joy  and  exultation, 
that  human  language  fails  utterly  to  describe. 
Finally  we  reached  a  large  building  and  entered 
what  seemed  to  be  a  large  school  room.  Here  he 
looked  over  some  records,  which  he  took  from  a 
little  receptacle  in  the  wall.  But  he  gave  them  only 
a  cursory  examination,  for  all  the  while  he  kept  his 
gaze  almost  steadily  fixed  on  me.  Then  I  fell  at  his 
feet  and  clasping  him  by  the  knees,  implored  him 
to  let  me  abide  with  him  and  begged  him  to  give 
me  knowledge.  Knowledge,  I  cried.  Give  me  knowl- 
edge; it  is  the  one  boon  I  crave.  Then  smiling  down 
at  me  benignantly,  he  raised  his  right  hand  and 
pointing  with  index  finger  to  the  horizon,  said  ma- 
jestically: 'Nay.  Not  yet.  You  must  return,  for 
yonder  are  the  beginnings  of  Life/  Then  I  looked 
where  he  bade  me  go.  It  was  on  the  far  horizon, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  213 

streaked  with  clouds  of  gray.  'Thither  must  you 
return,'  he  said,  '  'ere  knowledge  be  given  you.' 
Then  suddenly  I  was  awakened  as  if  by  the  jingle 
of  sleigh  bells;  and  for  some  minutes  after  this  re- 
markable dream,  the  sound  of  bells  could  be  plainly 
heard,  until  it  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  finally 
ceased  altogether." 

"My  son,"  said  Herminio,  as  he  lovingly  stroked 
the  black  locks  of  his  pupil,  this  was  not  a  dream. 
The  young  Antinous,  whom  you  met  on  this,  the 
occasion  of  your  first  awakening,  lives  in  Rome  to- 
day. He  is  not  the  Antinous  of  Old  Rome,  who 
drowned  himself  in  a  fountain  because  he  feared 
old  age  and  dreaded  its  coming,  lest  it  might  mar 
his  beauty.  No!  This  young  man  is  of  a  different 
type.  He  is  your  astral  conductor.  The  Great  Ones 
of  earth  who  watch  over  humanity,  appointed  him 
to  be  your  guardian  on  the  astral.  Now  man  has 
seven  bodies,  corresponding  to  the  seven  planes  of 
Nature.  But  for  the  present  we  will  confine  our- 
selves to  the  astral  plane  only — the  one  above  the 
physical.  When  you  longed  for  knowledge  so 
ardently,  you  purified  the  matter  of  the  physical 
body  and  increased  its  rate  of  vibration.  At  the 
same  time  these  aspirations  brought  your  astral 
body  into  definite  form,  and  furnished  it  with  or- 
gans, so  that  your  consciousness  could  use  it  as  a 
vehicle  in  the  astral  world.  Then  your  master, 
observing  that  it  was  time  to  awaken  you  on  the 
astral,  chose  this  youth  Antinous,  who  lives  in  the 
Eternal  City  to  be  your  guide.  He  chose  the  time 
and  the  hour.  It  was  all  left  to  him.  Then  at  the 
propitious  moment,  he  left  his  physical  envelope, 
causing  you  to  do  the  same.  By  a  law  of  similarity 
you  met  on  the  astral,  and  felt  that  exquisite  joy 
that  always  accompanies  an  expansion  of  conscious- 
ness when  the  soul  functions  in  its  astral  vehicle. 


214-        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

During  this  time,  your  physical  body  remained  in 
your  bed;  your  heart  action  was  slow  and  your 
breathing  hardly  audible.  The  physical  forces  hold- 
ing your  body,  lowered  its  every  function,  until  you 
were  ready  to  return  to  it.  When  you  asked  your 
guide  for  knowledge,  he  referred  you  to  a  far  away 
horizon,  streaked  with  clouds  of  gray.  Now  every 
color  on  the  astral  has  a  deep  significance.  Gray 
betokens  melancholy,  fear  and  depression.  There- 
fore when  he  pointed  to  the  gray  horizon,  and  told 
you  that  yonder  were  the  beginnings  of  life,  and 
that  you  must  return  'ere  you  could  be  given  knowl- 
edge, he  was  sending  you  back  to  the  physical  world 
— that  place  of  woe  and  trial  and  sorrow,  that  was 
to  be  your  school — the  place  where  you  would  be 
disciplined  before  you  could  be  admitted  to  that 
august  company  of  the  Higher  Ones  who  would  feed 
your  soul  on  the  Divine  manna." 

"For  in  this  plane  of  sorrow  we  must  overcome 
and  transmute  all  our  emotions.  The  poor  human 
heart  must  there  be  crucified  on  the  Cross  of  Matter. 
The  heart  of  the  Christ  is  often  pictured  as  being 
pierced  with  swords.  So  must  every  heart  at  some 
time  in  its  evolution  meet  a  like  Gethsemene." 

For  a  long  time  Anthony  was  silent.  He  had 
suffered  and  endured  his  agony,  in  that  place  of 
Gethsemene,  called  the  physical  world.  He  had  died 
to  that  world  and  now  he  felt  as  one  who  had  over- 
come the  limitations  of  the  physical  life,  and  entered 
on  his  heavenly  heritage. 

"And  good  master,  what  of  the  bells,  whose 
sweet  silver-like  sounds  pierced  the  hollow  of  my 
ears,  after  I  awoke  from  my  wonderful  dream?" 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  215 

"They  are  what  are  called,  the  'astral  bells/" 
replied  the  sage.  "Your  conductor  Antinous, 
brought  certain  vibrations  into  play,  by  sending  you 
strong  loving  thoughts  along  the  astral  currents  the 
moment  that  you  returned  to  your  physical  body. 
This  was  to  impress  on  your  mind,  that  your  mar- 
vellous experience  was  more  than  a  dream.  Fur- 
thermore, the  astral  bells  act  as  a  signal,  when  any 
important  matter  is  to  be  decided,  or  an  important 
step  is  to  be  taken  by  the  neophyte.  Being  a  disciple 
under  their  care,  many  times  will  you  hear  the  tink- 
ling of  the  bells,  when  some  momentous  question 
awaits  your  decision.  It  is  their  way  of  helping  and 
warning  you.  No  doubt  you  have  heard  them  at 
intervals  after  your  awakening." 

"Yes,  I  am  familiar  with  their  sweet  sounds. 
Often  have  their  tiny  silver  echoes  cheered  and  con- 
soled me  when  my  heart  was  faint,"  replied  the 
young  man. 

"Is  it  not  beautiful  to  think  how  intelligence 
may  be  conveyed  by  such  super-physical  means?" 
asked  the  sage. 

"Yes,  and  after  all,  it  is  not  miraculous." 

"I  am  so  glad  you  have  grasped  that  fact,"  said 
Herminio.  "In  the  physical  world  we  know  that 
impulses  sent  forth  by  the  wireless  telegraph  are 
conveyed  by  the  ether.  But  etheric  matter  cannot 
convey  thought.  That  is  done  by  the  next  highest 
medium,  the  astral  currents  acting  on  the  astral 
plane." 

"That  indeed  is  a  revelation  to  me,"  replied 
Anthony.  "Your  explanation  makes  it  very  clear." 

"It  is  clear  to  you,"  smilingly  said  the  sage,  "be- 
cause you  have  functioned  on  that  plane.  Had  you 
not  risen  to  the  level  of  astral  experience,  no  eluci- 
dation however  lengthy  and  learned,  could  have 


216        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

been  convincing  to  you.  From  your  stage  in  evolu- 
tion, you  know — have  positive  knowledge — that  to 
the  ordinary  physical  man,  the  astral  is  a  sealed 
book." 

"Yes,  for  only  the  humble  and  pure  in  heart  can 
break  the  seals  and  glean  wisdom  from  the  mystic 
symbols  contained  therein,"  said  Anthony. 

"How  I  love  the  words  of  knowledge  that  now 
fall  from  your  lips,"  rejoined  the  seer.  "Seven 
years  ago,  when  you  visited  these  regions  on  your 
honeymoon,  you  could  not  have  uttered  such  senti- 
ments. Then  you  were  happy  in  a  physical  way 
only.  Since  that  time  your  longings  after  truth  and 
your  intense  desire  to  know  more  of  the  world 
mystery,  accompanied  by  a  purity  of  heart,  brought 
you  illumination.  Then  were  you  given  power  to 
lift  the  veil  and  project  your  vision  and  conscious- 
ness in  the  next  highest  department  of  Nature, 
called  the  Astral  world.  In  your  particular  case, 
your  guide  showed  caution,  in  awakening  you  on  the 
inner  plane,  during  sleep.  Some  times  the  other 
method  is  chosen  and  the  subject  does  not  leave  his 
physical  body  at  all.  I  refer  to  my  own  case.  In 
these  instances  the  subject  attains  to  astral  vision. 
But  even  then,  a  protection  is  thrown  around  the 
embryo  seer;  so  that  the  strain  of  the  awakening 
might  not  be  too  great.  Now  my  first  vision  was 
a  portion  of  starlit  skjr,  and  bands  of  white  fleecy 
clouds.  I  did  not  know  the  phenomena  was  super- 
physical,  until  the  light  which  fell  from  my  hands, 
leaving  me  in  the  darkness,  proved  beyond  any 
doubt,  that  I  had  beheld  a  vision.  For  the  scene 
reappeared  on  the  drawn  curtain  and  on  both  sides 
of  the  closed  window.  I  thought  at  first  I  was  look- 
ing out  of  the  window  at  the  star  groups  in  the 
North.  Now  these  methods  are  used  by  our  astral 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  217 

conductors,  not  only  to  prove  to  us  that  we  have 
been  shown  super-sensuous  realities,  but  to  lessen 
fear  as  well. 

"Had  you  been  taken  out  of  your  physical 
body  in  full  waking  consciousness,  the  strain  would 
have  been  too  great,  and  the  probability  is,  you 
would  have  died  from  fear,  and  this  would  have  de- 
feated the  very  end  which  the  masters  had  in  view. 
For  in  your  second  'dream'  as  you  called  it,  although 
it,  also  was  not  a  dream;  you  climbed  the  mountain 
of  knowledge,  where  you  were  told  you  could  not 
enter  the  marvellous  edifice  that  crowned  its  sum- 
mit, until  you  had  made  the  Unity  with  the  Self. 
Now  let  me  hear  you  relate  this,  your  second  awak- 
ening on  the  astral,  in  your  own  language ;  for  there 
is  nothing  that  gives  a  teacher  greater  joy  than  to 
hear  his  pupil  relate  in  his  own  words,  the  ascend- 
ing stages  of  his  Awakening  into  Life." 

"I  remember  every  detail  of  these  wonderful  ex- 
periences so  vividly,"  responded  Anthony,  "that  it 
seems  they  have  been  branded  in  my  memory  with 
a  searing  iron.  On  the  particular  night  when  this 
event  occurred,  I  was  sleeping  with  my  little  boy. 
Worn  out  by  a  heavy  day's  work  in  the  class  room, 
I  fell  asleep  early.  Then  began  a  most  significant 
dream.  I  was  standing  alone  at  the  base  of  a  high 
mountain.  The  summit  was  so  clearly  outlined 
against  the  blue  sky  of  an  ideal  summer  day,  that 
some  unseen  force  impelled  me  to  climb  toward  it. 
But  my  feet  were  bare  and  the  way  was  steep  and 
perilous.  Yet  undaunted  by  the  difficulties,  I  began 
the  ascent. 

"Clutching  the  short  grass  and  shrubs  I 
struggled  on,  till  the  blood  began  to  ooze  from  my 
unprotected  feet  and  hands.  Then  the  thorns  and 
underbrush  tore  my  raiment  to  tatters,  until  finally 


218        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

I  stood  naked  under  the  fierce  rays  of  the  burning 
sun.  But  my  courage  seemed  super-human.  I  must 
reach  the  goal;  so  on  and  on  I  struggled,  the  ruddy 
drops  of  blood  marking  every  step  of  the  way.  Then 
hunger  and  burning  thirst  seized  me,  and  I  almost 
swooned  from  the  heat  of  the  pitiless  sun,  shining 
in  a  brazen  sky.  But  I  was  gaining  the  coveted  goal. 
One  more  mighty  effort,  and  victory  would  be  mine. 
As  I  started  to  make  the  final  attempt,  I  felt  a 
severe  pain  in  the  region  of  the  heart;  on  looking 
down  I  observed  that  that  part  of  my  body  directly 
over  my  heart,  was  transparent,  so  that  I  could  see 
my  heart  distinctly,  and  from  it  the  blood  was  ooz- 
ing slowly,  drop  by  drop ;  the  ruddy  globules  coming 
through  my  body,  trickled  down  my  limbs,  until 
they  reached  my  feet  and  stained  the  ground,  so 
that  I  was  walking  in  the  blood  that  oozed  from  my 
heart. 

"I  can  never  forget  that  agonizing  part  of 
my  dream.  At  times  I  thought  I  must  give  up  the 
effort,  my  strength  being  too  far  gone.  But  in  spite 
of  all  the  suffering,  I  struggled  on.  When  at  last, 
with  one  final  effort,  I  reached  the  summit,  I  gave 
a  shout  of  joy.  For  there  on  the  very  top  of  the 
mountain,  was  a  marble  temple  of  great  beauty, 
white  as  the  Arctic  snow.  Along  its  side  flowed  a 
stream  of  crystal  water  in  which  I  bathed  my  bleed- 
ing hands  and  feet.  Then  suddenly  my  wounds 
were  healed  and  even  the  marks  and  bruises  disap- 
peared and  my  whole  body  became  white  as  the 
temple  itself.  Refreshed  by  the  magical  properties 
of  this  living  water,  I  made  bold  to  approach  the 
temple.  But  I  could  not  enter  for  the  portals  were 
closed.  Then  as  I  drew  nearer  I  noticed  a  marble 
tablet,  partly  hidden  behind  the  Ionian  columns 
which  bore  the  following  inscription  in  Greek  char- 
acters : 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  219 

"  'The  Temple  of  Knoweldge.  Know  all  ye  who 
would  enter  the  portals  of  this  sacred  Temple,  that 
your  hearts  must  be  bled  from  impure  desire,  and 
you  must  successfully  pass  the  super-human  ordeal 
of  making  the  Unity  with  the  Self/ 

"Then  I  awoke  from  my  dream,  and  clasped 
around  my  neck,  felt  the  arms  of  my  little  boy 
Angelo." 

"My  son,"  said  Herminio,  when  Anthony  had 
concluded  his  narrative,  "your  ascent  up  this  moun- 
tain was  symbolical  of  the  pain  and  anguish  of 
heart  you  were  to  endure  in  the  physical  world  on 
your  way  toward  Reality.  The  blood  that  flowed 
from  your  heart,  symbolized  the  overcoming  of  your 
emotions,  that  must  be  transmuted  into  higher  spir- 
itual forces  before  you  could  pass  the  ordeal  of  mak- 
ing the  Unity  with  Self.  Now  this  ordeal  of  making 
the  Unity  with  Self  is  nothing  less  than  the 
surrendering  of  your  own  will,  to  the  Will  of  God. 
You  are  a  part  of  His  life  and  in  making  His  Will, 
your  will,  you  not  only  reach  to  a  vision  of  the 
Truth,  but  you  make  happiness  for  yourself  and 
glorify  Him.  But  alas,  how  few  in  the  present  age, 
co-operate  with  His  holy  will  and  become  children 
of  Light.  Instead  of  submitting  themselves  to  the 
Divine  promptings,  it  is  their  desire  to  overcome 
them.  They  set  their  puny  wills  against  the  majesty 
of  Divinity.  They  would  be  gods  themselves.  The 
creature  would  rule  the  Creator.  This  course  leads 
to  distrust  and  doubt  and  anchors  the  deluded  soul 
to  the  physical  plane.  To  the  higher  planes  of  love 
and  faith  and  knowledge,  they  can  never  reach,  be- 
cause they  have  failed  to  make  that  Unity  with  the 
Self — the  surrendering  of  their  personal  will,  to  the 
Will  of  the  Creator. 

"Now  although  grace  was  given  you,  by  which 
you  were  enabled  to  make  this  Unity  with  the  Self, 


220          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

at  the  same  time  the  difficulty  of  the  great  feat,  was 
made  most  clear  to  you.  In  this,  there  was  also 
hidden  a  Divine  purpose,  for  the  time  will  come 
when  you  must  instruct  and  encourage  others  who 
are  about  to  make  this  Unity  with  the  Self.  Being 
familiar  with  the  agony  of  the  Great  Trial,  you  are 
fitted  not  only  to  advise,  but  also  to  console  them 
on  their  perilous  journey  toward  Reality." 

"Now  in  your  case,"  continued  the  seer,  "the 
price  you  were  required  to  pay,  to  make  this  Unity 
with  the  Self,  was  the  separation  from  your  wife 
and  child,  and  your  worldly  possessions.  Even  your 
relatives  and  friends  were  taken  from  you.  You 
remained  alone  with  God,  the  Author  of  your  Being. 
All  else  had  gone.  Now  this  very  condition  was 
necessary  in  order  that  you  might  make  the  Unity 
with  the  Self.  At  first  you  railed  at  what  you 
thought  to  be  a  cruel  Fate.  From  the  standpoint 
of  the  world,  you  were  a  failure.  But  it  was  the 
form  of  your  life  only,  that  failed,  and  not  the  life 
itself.  Remember  that  wrell.  The  form  of  the  life, 
can  fail,  but  not  the  life.  After  the  destruction  of 
Messina,  you  wandered  into  the  country  bereft  of 
reason,  till  you  came  to  the  home  of  the  shepherd. 
This  was  no  accident.  It,  too,  was  a  part  of  the 
Divine  plan.  Under  the  humble  roof  of  this  unlet- 
tered man,  you  learned  a  most  salutary  lesson.  That 
is,  that  God  rejoices  in  the  love  of  a  contrite  heart 
and  gives  it  perfect  peace.  The  old  shepherd  had 
been  a  criminal  and  thief,  in  his  youth  and  early 
manhood.  In  later  years  he  gave  heed  to  the  Divine 
promptings.  Obeying  the  still  small  voice  of  the 
conscience,  he  united  his  will  to  the  Will  of  the 
Creator,  and  thus  attained  to  the  Unity  with  the 
Self." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  221 

"During  the  first  months  of  your  stay  with  him, 
you  envied  him  his  happiness.  Why,  you  thought, 
should  this  rude,  uncultured  man  of  the  hills,  once 
a  hunted  outlaw,  tell  me  of  the  mysteries  of  God. 
On  a  certain  night  he  upbraided  you  for  your  lack 
of  faith  and  brought  you  to  shame.  Then  you 
clearly  saw  for  the  first  time,  that  human  knowledge 
alone  could  never  bring  the  heart  to  God,  and  that 
the  soul  who  puts  its  trust  therein,  would  never 
reach  to  the  Divine  felicity." 

As  Herminio  finished  speaking,  he  looked  at  his 
pupil  as  if  for  a  reply,  but  Anthony,  amazed  at  the 
marvellous  intuition  of  the  seer,  remained  silent. 

"Come,"  he  said  finally,  as  he  realized  the  depth 
of  thought  into  which  he  had  plunged  his  pupil,  "tell 
me  of  the  next  religious  experience  through  which 
you  passed  on  the  way  to  your  final  spiritual  awak- 
ening." 

"It  was  on  a  certain  morning,"  replied  Anthony, 
"when  we  were  about  to  start  for  the  place  of  pas- 
turage, that  the  shepherd  drew  from  beneath  his 
coat,  a  little  book,  which  he  told  me  a  stranger, 
passing  through  the  fields,  had  given  him  the  day 
previously.  *I  will  give  you  the  book,'  he  said,  'for 
I  cannot  read.  Possibly  it  may  do  you  some  good.' 

"The  little  volume,"  continued  Anthony,  "was 
that  treasury  of  the  Christian  faith,  "The  Imitation 
of  Christ,"  by  Thomas  a  Kempis.  The  little  book 
and  the  Saint  Anthony  medal,  left  me  by  my  dying 
mother,  are  now  my  sole  possessions.  Then  going 
to  the  little  book  shelf  where  Herminio  kept  his 
library,  he  picked  up  the  little  volume,  and  placed 
it  in  the  hands  of  the  seer." 

"Although  they  are  your  sole  possessions,  yet 
they  are  all  that  you  need,  for  they  brought  you 


222          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

into  life.  And  the  medal,  have  you  worn  it  always?" 
asked  the  seer. 

"Yes,  I  have,"  and  drawing  from  beneath  his 
clothing,  the  medal,  he  showed  it  to  the  old  man. 
"I  have  always  worn  it,"  he  continued.  "It  has 
been  a  potent  talisman;  for  I  believe  it  rescued  me 
from  despair.  At  times  during  my  despondent  mo- 
ments, I  have  clutched  it  so  firmly  in  my  palm,  that 
its  sharp  sides  cut  into  the  flesh  and  caused  me  to 
cry  out  in  pain." 

"Yes,  and  yet  through  its  efficacy,  combined  with 
the  splendid  treasures  I  have  found  in  'The  Imita- 
tion,' I  took  up  courage  and  aspired  and  longed  for 
Reality.  That  ultimate  Goal,  for  which  every  true 
penitent  so  ardently  longs.  Then  one  night,  worn 
out  by  grief  and  patient  suffering,  I  threw  myself 
on  my  wretched  bed,  and  repeating  aloud  the  open- 
ing line  of  the  'De  Profundis';  'Out  of  the  Depths, 
I  have  cried  to  Thee,  O  Lord  hear  my  voice!'  I  fell 
into  a  troubled  sleep.  Then  I  dreamed  I  was  again 
with  you  here  in  Switzerland  and  was  gleaning 
knowledge  from  the  words  that  fell  from  your  lips. 
Looking  out  of  the  hermitage  I  saw  the  wild  goats 
sporting  around  the  eagle's  nests,  and  heard  the 
echoes  of  splashing  water  as  it  fell  from  the  hidden 
cascades  in  the  mountains.  I  was  so  happy  to  be 
once  more  in  your  company,  that  I  fairly  exulted  in 
the  joy  of  Being.  Then  I  suddenly  awoke  from  my 
dream  and  beheld  a  white  light  directly  above  my 
bed  near  the  ceiling  and  knew  I  was  to  be  accorded 
a  vision.  Slowly  the  light  faded,  to  reappear  the 
second  and  third  time.  Then  after  its  final  disap- 
pearance, there  gleamed  in  its  place  a  perfectly 
formed  anchor.  It  was  of  a  deep  violet  color.  Its 
length  was  about  nine  inches  with  a  proportionate 
width,  making  a  most  beautiful  figure.  For  five  or 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  223 

six  seconds  it  remained  in  manifestation,  pulsating 
and  throbbing  like  a  thing  of  life,  then  it  slowly 
faded  away  into  the  darkness." 

"And  what  were  your  thoughts,  and  what  did 
you  do,  when  the  vision  disappeared?"  asked  the 
seer  with  a  smile. 

"I  raised  my  clasped  hands  to  heaven  and 
thanked  God  for  the  vision  and  its  hopeful  symbol; 
with  streaming  eyes  and  a  heart  full  of  gratitude,  I 
knew  some  higher  intelligence  was  protecting  me  and 
giving  me  a  promise  of  hope.  There  was  still  some- 
thing for  which  to  live.  For  I  knew  the  Great  Power, 
which  was  mindful  of  me,  would  give  me  the  right 
disposition  to  conquer  every  obstacle  and  yet  make 
a  success  of  my  life.  But  of  the  origin  of  the  beau- 
tiful vision,  I  know  nothing  and  now  beg  you  to 
explain  it  to  me." 

"From  the  time  that  you  made  your  call  for 
knowledge,"  replied  the  seer,  "your  guide  Antinous, 
constantly  watched  over  your  life  and  actions.  He 
knew  your  secret  thoughts,  for  they  were  a  part  of 
his  consciousness.  When  you  made  your  first  sin- 
cere aspirations,  he  met  you  on  the  astral  while 
your  body  slept,  and  had  you  experience  that  ex- 
panded form  of  consciousness,  which  the  soul  under- 
goes when  functioning  in  its  astral  vehicle.  Then 
it  was  at  his  command,  that  you  climbed  the  sym- 
bolical mountain  of  knowledge,  amid  the  many  perils 
and  dangers  that  beset  your  way,  to  find  when  you 
reached  the  summit,  you  were  denied  entrance  to 
the  temple  until  you  had  passed  successfully  the 
ordeal  of  making  the  Unity  with  Self.  Again,  he 
sent  you  back  to  the  physical  world,  that  sad  place 
of  human  experience,  symbolized  by  a  far  away 
horizon,  streaked  with  clouls  of  gray.  Then  came 
the  trial.  Your  loved  ones  were  taken  from  you. 


224        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

All  that  the  physical  world  held  dear  to  you — your 
love,  your  affections — your  wealth,  at  one  fell  stroke 
shared  alike  the  common  doom.  For  two  long  years 
you  led  the  life  of  a  madman  and  pauper.  You  were 
treading  your  way  to  the  Temple  of  Knowledge,  but 
Oh!  the  agony  and  bitter  anguish  of  the  journey! 
How  often  your  courage  failed;  for  you  walked  in 
the  blood  that  oozed  from  the  heart.  When  at 
length  it  seemed  you  could  suffer  no  longer,  the 
great  truths  in  'The  Imitation'  by  Thomas  a  Kempis, 
were  flashed  into  your  consciousness.  There  you 
read,  'That  occasions  make  not  a  man  fail,  but  they 
show  what  the  man  is.'  Also,  'That  he  who  over- 
cometh,  would  be  given  to  eat  of  the  Tree  of  Life.' 
Now  this  overcoming  is  the  very  process  to  which 
you  had  been  subjected.  You  were  transmuting 
your  emotions  into  spiritual  forces.  You  were  be- 
coming Christ-like.  The  swords  of  sorrow  had 
pierced  that  center  of  emotion — the  human  heart. 
It  had  given  up  the  last  drop  of  its  blood.  The 
ordeal  was  consummated;  and  the  spirit  of  Thomas 
a  Kempis,  reaching  out  over  the  centuries,  enabled 
you  to  make  that  supreme  achievement — the  Unity 
with  the  Self." 

"Then  you  became  calm  and  confident.  Despair 
gave  way  to  hope,  and  fear  to  courage.  As  soon  as 
your  guide  Antinous  sensed  this  new  condition  in 
your  consciousness,  he  bided  his  time  a  little  longer. 
Then  on  that  particular  night  he  caused  you  to 
dream  of  me.  Knowing  the  exact  moment  when 
you  would  awaken  from  your  dream,  he  projected 
to  you  a  loving  thought  of  hope.  Since  the  astral 
currents  are  the  conductors  of  thought,  the  matter 
of  the  astral  plane  is  being  continually  wrought  into 
form,  by  the  thought-waves  impinged  on  it  by  the 
thought  of  man;  each  thought  having  its  particular 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  225 

form,  while  the  color  depends  upon  the  rate  of  vibra- 
tion. Thus  the  loving  thought  sent  out  to  you  by 
Antinous  from  the  city  of  Rome,  reached  you  in- 
stantly in  far  away  Sicily,  and  molded  the  matter 
of  the  astral  plane  within  the  field  of  your  astral 
vision  into  the  form  of  an  anchor,  symbolical  of  the 
idea  which  your  guide  intended  to  convey.  He  ac- 
companied this  thought  with  ardent  love;  thus,  the 
rate  of  vibration  was  raised  to  that  particular  point, 
making  the  color  a  deep  violet — the  love  color.  It 
was  no  wonder  that  you  thanked  God  for  so  beau- 
tiful a  manifestation  of  his  love  and  Providence ;  for 
here  indeed,  was  ocular  proof  that  a  higher  intelli- 
gence than  ordinary  man  somewhere  in  the  universe, 
was  sending  you  love  and  hope.  You  must  remem- 
ber that  each  thought  has  its  particular  form. 
Whenever  the  thought  of  hope  is  projected  by  one 
human  being  to  another,  the  plastic  matter  of  the 
astral  plane  is  at  once  molded  into  the  form  of  an 
anchor,  and  whoever  possesses  the  gift  of  astral 
vision,  can  clearly  see  this  beautiful  phenomenon." 

"So  there  is  a  smybology  to  the  astral  plane; 
and  whosoever  possesses  the  key  to  the  symbols,  can 
interpret  its  meaning  and  read  therein,"  interrupted 
Anthony. 

"Yes,  but  it  requires  time,  patience  and  practice. 
In  the  first  place,  he  who  would  read  the  secrets  in 
this  department  of  Nature,  must  first  of  all,  have 
astral  vision;  and  this  great  boon  is  only  given  to 
those  who  have  become  worthy  of  it  by  living  an 
unselfish  life,  coupled  with  humility  and  great  purity 
of  heart;  so  that  the  number  of  persons  today  in 
the  world  who  have  attained  this  higher  vision,  is 
comparatively  few." 

"But  will  the  time  ever  come  when  humanity  as 
a  whole,  be  given  this  higher  vision?"  asked  An- 
thony. 


226        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"Yes,"  replied  the  seer,  "for  it  is  the  heritage  of 
the  Race.  In  the  far  away  future,  the  humanity  of 
the  period,  will  with  few  exceptions,  have  attained 
to  astral  vision.  In  that  golden  epoch  of  the  Future, 
the  Races  of  this  globe,  realizing  the  mighty  power 
for  good  they  have  generated  by  uniting  their  will 
to  the  Universal  Mind — knowing  that  a  purity  of 
life  reveals  higher  planes  of  Being,  will  have  one 
ambition  only — that  of  becoming  spiritual  minded. 
Then  indeed,  Love  will  transform  the  world.  The 
present  social  order  will  have  passed  away.  For 
where  Love  reigns,  greed  and  lust  depart.  In  that 
distant  time,  Humanity  will  have  entered  into  a  new 
cycle.  The  heart  of  man  having  been  purified,  will 
no  longer  crave  after  the  perishing  things  of  a  ma- 
terial world.  Then  the  customs  and  the  social  order 
will  change;  for  society  is  only  an  expression  of  the 
consciousness  of  the  Race.  The  social  order  is  an 
index,  whereby  one  may  gauge  the  condition  of  the 
heart  of  man.  The  purer  the  heart,  the  higher  and 
more  just  the  social  order." 

"From  the  general  trend  of  our  converse,  I  trust 
you  will  not  think  me  presumptuous  if  I  ask  if  there 
be  worlds  now  existing,  that  bear  humanities  such 
as  you  have  described?"  inquired  the  anxious  An- 
thony. 

"Yes,  my  son,  there  are  such  worlds,"  replied  the 
seer.  "On  the  planet  Venus,  our  sister  globe,  there 
reigns  a  glorified  humanity.  The  souls  on  Venus 
have  become  Christ-like.  To  them  the  Tree  of  Life, 
is  an  ever-present  reality,  and  they  do  not  have  to 
search  their  Scriptures  to  find  it  in  parable  and 
allegory." 

"Would  you  not  tell  me  more  of  those  glorious 
Beings,  in  their  happy  Venus  world?" 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  227 

"No.  I  should  not  have  touched  on  it  at  all," 
rejoined  the  sage."  But  sometimes  even  a  master, 
oversteps  the  bounds  of  prudence,  and  gives  out 
truths,  he  is  forbidden  to  utter.  So  over  this  high- 
er knowledge  I  will  now  draw  the  veil,  Let  us  go 
back  to  the  events  that  happened  to  you  shortly  af- 
ter Antinous  promised  you  hope  through  the  vision 
of  the  violet  anchor.  Tell  me  from  your  own  lips, 
what  you  did  on  the  days  immediately  following  the 
vision  and  what  was  your  disposition.  And  finally, 
in  what  kind  of  a  spirit  you  received  the  instruc- 
tions in  sleep,  that  prompted  you  to  come  to  Swit- 
zerland to  find  and  reside  with  me,  your  friend  and 
master?" 

"For  several  days  after  the  remarkable  occurr- 
ence, I  talked  very  little  to  the  shepherd;  instead  I 
busied  myself  in  reading  "The  Imitation",  wherein 
I  found  pearls  of  great  price.  But  all  the  while  I 
knew  I  must  in  a  very  short  time  go  forth  into  the 
world;  for  my  benefactor,  kind  as  he  was,  could  not 
afford  to  keep  me  always  with  him.  But  I  disliked 
the  idea  of  taking  up  the  burden  of  life  again  in  the 
world,  and  I  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  again  com- 
ing in  contact  with  it." 

"It  was  at  this  time  that  I  began  to  see  additional 
phenomena  through  the  higher  vision.  On  retiring 
at  night,  I  noticed  that  the  ceiling  and  walls  of  my 
room,  were  filled  with  tiny  points  of  fire.  Directly 
over  my  head  there  burned  a  golden  colored  star, 
somewhat  larger  than  the  other  points  of  light  with 
which  my  room  was  filled,  At  first  these  points  of 
light  were  stationery,  but  at  the  end  of  several 
weeks  they  began  to  move  across  my  field  of  vision, 
sometimes  in  straight  lines  and  sometimes  in  circles. 
Now,  the  star  which  shone  overhead,  was  always 
stationery;  that  is,  so  long  as  I  remained  at  rest. 


228        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

But  one  night,  having  occasion  to  leave  my  bed,  I 
noticed  that  this  particular  point  of  golden  light, 
followed  me  about  wherever  I  moved.  Now,  the 
other  points  of  fire,  seemed  to  move  independently; 
they  would  meet  and  coalesce,  separate  and  disap- 
pear, while  new  ones  would  constantly  form  in  other 
parts  of  the  ceiling,  tracing  their  fiery  lines  and  cir- 
cles against  the  background  of  darkness.  But  this 
particular  star  shaped  point,  seemed  to  shine  for  me 
alone.  It  was  not  attracted  and  repelled  by  the 
others,  but  acted  as  it  were  a  law  unto  itself.  On 
certain  nights,  this  astral  display,  as  you  no  doubt 
would  term  it,  was  less  brilliant  than  at  other  times, 
and  but  a  few  of  the  lights  would  be  in  evidence ;  but 
this  golden  colored  star  never  failed  to  shed  its 
beams  on  me.  I  grew  to  love  it.  It  seemed  a  mute 
friend  and  companion;  never  leaving  my  side.  On 
my  way  to  Switzerland,  I  recalled  the  joy  I  felt, 
when  on  my  first  night  on  the  steamer,  the  faithful 
star  still  held  its  shining  place  overhead,  as  if  to 
guard  and  console  me  with  its  cheering  rays.  Every 
night  thereafter,  and  even  until  now,  this  friendly 
sentinel  still  sheds  its  golden  beams  upon  me.  Good 
master,  what  is  the  office  of  this  nightly  watcher, 
and  will  it  always  continue  to  cheer  me  with  its 
beauteous  rays?" 

"My  son,"  thoughtfully  answered  the  seer,  "This 
is  what  is  called  in  occultism,  the  'Star  of  Initiation,' 
You  have  been  initiated  into  the  lesser  mysteries  of 
life.  Being  initiated,  you  became  a  part  of  your 
master's  consciousness.  You  are  always  in  his 
thought,  for  you  have  become  a  part  of  him.  Now 
this  point  of  light  which  takes  the  place  of  a  star,  is 
the  projection  of  your  master's  thought.  He  thinks 
of  you  as  being  loyal,  steadfast  and  enduring.  His 
thought,  when  impinged  on  the  astral,  takes  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  229 

form  of  a  star;  for  are  not  the  stars  emblems  of 
Eternity?  We  speak  of  the  'everlasting  stars.'  Is 
it  not  meet  therefore,  that  the  master's  constant 
thought  of  his  pupil,  should  take  on  this  beautiful 
form?" 

"Now,  this  'Star  of  Initiation*  will  continue  to 
shine  over  you  throughout  your  entire  future.  It 
will  never  desert  you;  for  your  consciousness  hav- 
ing been  united,  to  that  of  your  master's,  you  are 
ever  present  in  his  thought.  Now  the  other  points 
of  light  are  also  projections.  You  call  them  points 
of  fire.  You  are  quite  right  in  so  naming  them.  I 
would  call  them  sparks,  or  little  tips  of  flame,  that 
play  hide  and  seek  in  the  shadows.  Other  initiates 
in  other  parts  of  the  world,  through  their  inner  fac- 
ulties, have  sensed  your  presence  in  their  thought 
life.  They  rejoice  to  know  that  another  soul  has 
awakened  into  Being.  But  since  you  are  not  under 
their  personal  direction,  their  thought  of  you  is  not 
continuous;  so  that  when  their  thought  is  with- 
drawn, certain  points  of  fire  disappear,  that  repre- 
sent their  occasional  thought.  Then  other  noble 
souls  in  some  remote  part  of  the  world,  send  you 
their  thoughts,  and  other  tips  of  flame  appear  in 
the  field  of  your  astral  vision.  It  is  this  interplay 
of  thought  force,  sent  you  at  random,  that  results 
in  the  beautiful  phenomena  you  witness  nightly  and 
fills  the  ceiling  and  walls  of  your  room  with  flaming 
jewels." 

"What  a  marvel,"  exclaimed  Anthony.  "I  feel 
as  though  I  had  just  begun  to  live." 

"Yes,"  rejoined  the  seer.  "When  with  the 
higher  vision  we  pierce  the  veil  and  read  the  first 
secrets  of  Creation,  we  really  begin  to  exult  in  the 
joy  of  Being.  Knowing  that  greater  secrets  will  be 
revealed  to  us  as  our  consciousness  unfolds,  we  then 


230        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

trust  those  mighty  Powers  who  are  instruments  of 
the  heavenly  Father.  For  when  a  man  reaches  this 
stage  of  unfoldment,  he  is  speaking  from  a  physical 
point  of  view,  directed  by  invisible  forces  that  shape 
his  destiny.  Now  tell  me,  in  what  kind  of  a  spirit 
you  received  the  instructions  in  sleep,  that  sent  you 
to  me." 

"After  the  vision  of  the  anchor  and  the  beginning 
of  the  nightly  astral  display  of  the  points  of  light," 
replied  Anthony,  "I  felt  that  these  higher  forces 
would  by  some  occult  process  advise  me  what  I  was 
to  do.  In  this  I  was  correct,  and  after  the  instruc- 
tions were  given,  I  obeyed  them  implicitly,  never 
doubting  for  a  moment  the  wisdom  of  the  great 
intelligence  that  was  in  this  way  directing  me." 

Then  the  young  pupil  related  to  his  master,  the 
appearance  of  the  three  hands  while  he  was  in  the 
super-sensuous  condition.  How  he  met  the  two  men 
a  few  days  later,  having  hands  which  were  exact 
duplicates  of  those  he  had  seen  in  the  astral;  lastly, 
how  the  shepherd,  the  owner  of  the  third  hand,  had 
helped  him  on  his  way  by  furnishing  him  gold  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  his  journey. 

When  he  finished  his  narrative,  he  asked  Her- 
minio  for  an  explanation  of  the  phenomena. 

"When  you  longed  for  knowledge,"  replied  the 
sage,  "as  to  the  future  course  you  should  pursue  in 
the  world,  Antinous,  your  astral  conductor,  sensed 
your  condition.  Knowing  through  a  higher  means, 
which  I  will  explain  to  you  later,  that  two  travellers 
would  pass  by  the  home  of  the  shepherd  in  a  few 
days  and  converse  with  you,  he  put  you  on  the 
astral  during  sleep.  After  you  had  framed  the 
mental  question  as  to  what  course  you  were  to  fol- 
low, he  projected  a  strong  thought  image  of  the 
hand  of  the  first  traveller,  on  the  third  finger  of 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  231 

which  was  worn  a  plain  band  silver  ring.  Through 
your  astral  vision  you  observed  this  minutely.  Then 
it  disappeared.  A  second  time  Antinous  impinged 
his  thought  on  the  astral,  and  the  strength  of  his 
thought  moulded  the  astral  matter  into  the  form  of 
another  hand — not  a  heavy  wide  hand  like  the  first, 
but  the  hand  of  a  leisurely  gentleman,  the  fingers 
well  formed,  the  palm  narrow  and  on  the  third  finger 
a  gold  ring  set  with  two  golden  hearts.  After  this, 
by  the  same  process,  a  third  hand  was  seen.  A 
hand  with  twisted,  knotted  fingers,  the  thumb  de- 
formed. You  recognized  it  as  the  hand  of  the  shep- 
herd. Then  you  awakened,  or  came  back  to  your 
physical  body.  You  knew  your  question  had  been 
answered.  You  did  not  wonder  at  the  marvellous 
way  in  which  it  had  been  done.  You  had  ceased  to 
wonder.  Although  treading  the  first  steps  that  lead 
to  the  Temple  of  Knowledge  you  waited  patiently, 
trusting  implicitly  the  higher  Powers  that  were 
now  guiding  your  life  and  actions.  The  day  follow- 
ing a  traveller  passed  on  the  road  going  to  Palermo. 
He  learned  your  history  and  took  a  deep  interest  in 
your  past.  He  advised  you  to  go  to  Switzerland  in 
the  capacity  of  a  private  teacher.  Then  as  he  leaned 
against  a  tree  as  if  to  rest,  his  left  hand  was  fully 
exposed.  You  noted  it  to  be  the  first  hand  you  had 
seen  in  the  astral.  There  was  the  wide,  coarse  palm, 
and  on  the  third  finger,  the  plain  band  silver  ring. 

"The  next  day  a  certain  traveller  stopped  in  the 
road  opposite  the  hut.  After  tying  his  horse,  he 
came  into  the  yard  and  made  inquiry  if  he  was  on 
the  right  road  for  Taormina.  He  was  a  refined  gen- 
tleman. You  asked  him  into  the  hermitage.  You 
found  him  to  be  a  teacher  from  the  university  of 
Paris.  This  common  tie  of  occupation  brought  both 
of  you  to  very  friendly  terms.  He  also  learned  your 


232        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

history.  Then  like  the  first  traveller,  he  advised 
you  to  go  to  Switzerland  in  the  near  future — told 
you  not  to  delay.  Then  he  incidentally  remarked 
that  he  had  sprained  his  wrist  a  few  days  previously, 
and  rested  his  hand  lightly  on  the  table.  You  saw 
it  to  be  a  duplicate  of  the  second  hand  that  appeared 
to  you  in  the  astral.  A  well  formed  hand.  The 
fingers  tapering — the  palm  narrow.  On  the  third 
finger  the  gold  ring,  set  with  two  golden  hearts. 

"After  some  further  converse,  he  took  his  leave; 
but  before  saying  goodbye,  he  again  urged  you  to 
go  on  to  Switzerland,  where  your  future  awaited 
you." 

"Now,  what  you  saw  in  the  astral,  had  been 
proved  in  the  physical.  There  yet  remained  the 
third  hand  to  be  accounted  for.  You  knew  this  was 
the  hand  of  the  shepherd.  He,  too,  had  a  part  to 
play.  On  learning  of  your  intention  to  go  to  Switzer- 
land, he  felt  happy  at  your  decision,  but  he  knew 
nothing  as  to  how  this  decision  had  been  brought 
about.  That  was  well.  Then  he  furnished  you  with 
gold  for  the  journey  and  accompanied  you  as  far  as 
Messina.  After  reaching  Bergun,  you  felt  restless 
and  uneasy  and  did  not  feel  like  taking  up  the  work 
of  a  teacher.  One  afternoon  during  your  rambles, 
you  came  upon  the  path  that  lead  to  this  hermitage. 
Suddenly  the  way  seemed  familiar,  for  you  recog- 
nized it  as  the  very  path  along  which  you  moved 
in  the  astral,  where  the  mysterious  hands  had  been 
seen  by  you  through  the  higher  vision.  Then  you 
saw  my  figure  in  the  doorway,  and  knew  that  the 
real  purpose  of  your  return  to  Switzerland,  was  to 
bring  you  to  the  feet  of  Herminio,  the  Seer." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Astral  Players. 

The  Poet's  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling 

Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven ; 

And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 

The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 

Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 

A  local  habitation  and  a  name. 

— Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

Two  weeks  had  passed  since  the  sage  and  his 
pupil  had  wandered  over  the  hills,  when  on  that 
October  afternoon,  they  had  met  the  beautiful 
Alexis,  and  listened  to  his  soul  stirring  songs  accom- 
panied by  the  sweet  notes  of  his  silver  lyre.  It  was 
the  night  of  the  full  moon — the  night  on  which 
Herminio  had  promised  his  pupil,  that  Alexis  would 
present  a  play  for  his  benefit — a  play  that  was  to 
be  full  of  beauty  and  mystery. 

"Come,"  said  the  sage,  as  he  took  Anthony  by 
the  arm,  and  led  him  from  the  inclosure  of  the 
hermitage  into  the  grove,  "we  will  walk  over  the 
hills  until  the  moon  is  fully  risen,  when  our  beloved 
youth,  Alexis,  will  meet  us  with  his  band  of  astral 
players." 

As  the  two  men  set  out  of  the  inclosure,  the 
moon  touching  the  horizon,  flooded  the  East  with 
light.  For  more  than  an  hour  the  sage  and  his  pupil 
walked  on,  arm  in  arm.  Engaged  in  rich  converse, 
they  seemed  oblivious  to  all  the  natural  beauty  that 


234-        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

was  everywhere  spread  around  them.  At  last  com- 
ing into  an  open  space  before  a  large  oak,  they 
seated  themselves  on  a  little  knoll,  to  rest. 

"It  is  under  that  oak  tree,"  said  Herminio,  "that 
Alexis  and  his  band  of  players  will  appear.  Keep 
your  attention  fixed  on  the  topmost  branches  of  the 
tree,  and  your  patience  will  soon  be  rewarded  by  a 
phenomenon  of  wondrous  beauty." 

The  sage  had  scarcely  finished  speaking,  when 
a  globe  of  green  colored  light  appeared  on  the  tree 
top.  For  a  moment  only,  it  remained  stationary; 
then  it  dropped  slowly  through  the  branches,  and 
as  it  neared  the  ground,  it  broke  into  parts  and  as- 
sumed the  shape  of  long  separate  ribbons  of  light, 
which  united,  and  on  touching  the  ground,  assumed 
human  form,  and  Alexis,  the  beautiful  youth,  clad 
in  a  green  raiment,  stepped  forth  from  under  the 
tree,  bearing  his  silver  lyre  in  his  upraised  hand. 

"Most  gracious  master  and  worthy  friend  An- 
thony, I  greet  you,"  he  said,  as  he  advanced  toward 
them.  Then  striking  a  few  notes  on  his  lyre,  he 
added:  "My  players  will  soon  be  here  and  I  will 
make  them  known  to  you  as  they  arrive." 

Then  he  retraced  his  steps  and  stood  under  the 
tree,  while  a  golden  globe  of  light  descended  through 
the  branches.  On  nearing  the  ground,  it  broke  apart 
as  the  green  globe  had  done  and  assumed  the  form 
of  an  elderly  man,  clad  in  a  flowing  robe  of  yellow. 
In  his  right  hand  he  carried  a  telescope. 

"Welcome  Simonides,"  said  Alexis,  as  he  ex- 
tended his  hand.  Then  leading  him  forward  he  con- 
tinued: "This  is  Simonides,  the  astronomer,  who 
does  his  work  well.  Simonides,  greet  our  friend 
Anthony,  who  has  recently  come  into  life." 

As  Simonides  bowed  to  Anthony,  a  red  globe 
followed  by  a  deep  violet,  fell  slowly  through  the 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  235 

branches.  From  the  separated  parts,  two  female 
figures  were  formed.  The  first  of  striking  beauty, 
clothed  in  red,  with  a  girdle  of  flashing  jewels  around 
the  waist.  On  her  head  she  wore  a  crown  of  gold 
studded  with  precious  stones.  The  second  figure 
was  smaller  in  stature  than  the  first.  Her  violet 
robe  hanging  loosely  about  her  supple  form.  In  her 
right  hand  she  carried  a  reed  instrument,  through 
which  she  occasionally  breathed  a  few  plaintive 
notes. 

At  a  sign  from  Alexis,  the  two  women  advanced 
and  were  introduced  as  Cleo,  an  enchantress,  and 
Isolde,  a  shepherdess. 

"Behold  the  contrast  between  these  two,"  said 
Alexis.  "Cleo  bears  in  her  right  hand,  a  golden 
crozier,  an  emblem  of  power,  but  it  is  physical  power 
only  that  she  wields.  Isolde,  the  gentle  shepherdess, 
a  lover  of  nature,  is  clothed  in  violet — the  love  color. 
She  bears  a  reed — emblem  of  peace  and  happiness." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  another  globe,  in  color 
a  pale  blue,  fell  slowly  through  the  branches  of  the 
oak.  After  going  through  the  same  process,  as  the 
other  globes  before  it,  there  stepped  forth  an  aged 
man,  with  a  long  white  beard. 

"Behold  Umenes,  the  Anchorite,  a  most  devout 
soul.  He  is  dressed  in  blue  raiment — the  devotional 
color." 

While  Anthony  marvelled  at  the  appearance  of 
these  characters  in  their  astral  bodies,  a  white  globe 
of  light  shone  out  above  the  tree  top.  It  swayed 
slowly  to  the  right  and  left  before  resting  on  the 
branches  as  if  it  would  attract  special  attention. 
Then  slowly  dropping  down  among  the  autumn 
leaves,  it  broke  apart,  but  not  into  ribbons.  Instead, 
it  broke  up  into  a  number  of  small  white  globes, 


236        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

which  on  uniting,  formed  into  a  male  hody  of  snowy 
whiteness.  There  was  no  mistaking  that  noble  form, 
that  seemd  cut  from  living  marble.  It  was  Antinous, 
his  astral  conductor. 

"Have  no  fear,"  said  Herminio,  as  he  noticed  his 
pupil  was  somewhat  agitated;  "Antinous  is  one  of 
the  players." 

Before  Anthony  could  reply,  Umenes,  the  An- 
chorite, and  the  lovely  Antinous,  had  come  forward 
and  joined  the  others.  Then  Alexis,  gazing  dreamily 
at  the  increasing  moon,  allowed  his  fingers  to  stray 
caressingly  for  some  moments  among  the  strings 
of  his  silver  lyre.  For  some  time  he  remained  mo- 
tionless ;  soon  recovering  from  his  reverie,  he  turned 
his  gaze  toward  his  listeners,  and  with  his  glorious 
head  slightly  thrown  back,  commenced  to  sing: 

Most  gracious  Master!    Kindest  friend! 
Your  benison  bestow, 
On  One  whom  airy  forms  attend, 
And  mute  obeisance  show. 

Not  oft  the  Cosmic  Powers  ordain 
This  Spectacle  to  Be; 
Not  oft  thy  servant's  glorious  train, 
Awaken'd  souls  may  see! 

But  when  the  sun,  his  annual  round, 
Loops  seven  times  earth  and  air, 
Some  worthy  souls  my  forms  surround, 
Their  Wisdom  to  declare. 

And  only  when  the  moonbeams  glance, 
Is  set  the  fairy  scene ; 
Where  mystics  pray  and  wantons  dance, 
In  ambient  air  serene. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  237 

Then  Worlds  of  Fancy  open  wide, 
And  beauteous  forms  unveil; 
And  thoughts  that  in  the  shadows  hide, 
On  quiv'ring  starbeams  sail! 

The  bat  that  hails  the  rising  moon, 
The  firefly  in  the  dell, 
The  gnome  upon  the  sandy  dune, 
The  monk  in  desert  cell, 

All  hail  with  joy  the  silver  light, 
That  Cynthia  sheds  afar; 
For  now  the  blessed  hallow'd  night, 
Comes  forth  in  spangl'd  car. 

Star  crown'd!  she  rides  the  starry  heights, 
And  with  a  watchful  eye, 
Observes  the  saint's  and  sinner's  rites — 
The  lover's  plaintive  sigh. 

So  I  invoke  her  wondrous  boon, 
Here  'neath  this  oaken  tree; 
Her  subtle  spell  beneath  this  moon, 
Commends  my  friends  to  thee. 


The  prelude  completed,  Alexis  once  more  fixed 
his  gaze  on  the  rising  moon.  Again  he  indulged  in 
a  short  reverie.  After  a  momentary  pause  quickly 
recollecting  himself,  he  drew  his  noble  form  up  to 
its  full  stature,  and  striking  the  cords  of  his  beau- 
tiful instrument  with  the  skillful  touch  and  force 
of  a  master  musician,  broke  forth  into  the  following 
verse : 


238         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"In  my  beloved  land,  fair  Hellas  land, 

The  gods  oft  met  in  council  to  decide 

The  fate  of  men  and  nations.    Even  so 

I  and  my  band  of  faithful  players  meet 

Here  'neath  the  full  grown  moon  at  divers  times, 

To  speak  on  matters  of  such  grave  import, 

That  most  concern  the  growing  soul  of  man. 

Unlike  the  gods  of  Old,  whose  sole  desire 

Was  to  incite  the  heart  of  man  to  war, 

And  prey  upon  his  fellows,  we  are  met 

Unto  a  nobler  purpose;  for  our  aims 

Are  not  to  foment  strive  and  bitter  hate, 

And  pour  forth  vials  of  wrath  upon  the  world. 

Instead  our  work  is  of  so  high  a  kind 

That  nature  hath  endowed  us  with  gifts, 

That  to  the  simple  mind  of  plodding  man 

Seem  superhuman  and  miraculous; 

And  yet  withal,  they  are  but  natural, 

The  outcome  and  result  of  standard  aims, 

The  fruit  of  actions  of  an  ordered  past. 

In  my  beloved  company  appear, 

Men  of  diverse  attainments  who  will  give 

The  object  of  their  lives,  in  their  own  words. 

Speak  up  Simonides.    Why  comest  thou 

To  our  august  assemblage? 

Simonides : 

Most  worthy  friend  and  leader,  I  come  here 

In  my  more  subtle  body,  to  convey 

The  world-old  message  to  my  listening  peers; 

For  while  my  theme  is  old,  'tis  ever  new, 

For  I  exemplify  in  my  own  life 

Ideals  and  purposes,  for  which  great  men 

Have  hoped  and  struggled  for  through  centuries. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  239 

Alexis : 

Then  to  the  point,  and  waste  not  idle  words 
In  flowery  language  and  fine  rhetoric. 
Seek  not  to  measure  meter  or  blank  verse, 
Nor  weigh  the  number  of  thy  cadences. 

Simonides : 

If  I  must  to  the  point,  then  so  will  I. 
Know  then  O  friends,  and  thou  good  Anthony, 
That  I  have  scanned  the  heavens  all  my  time. 
Behold  this  telescopic  tube  I  bear 
Doth  symbolize  my  calling  in  this  life. 
For  years,  I  did  essay  to  understand 
The  mighty  secrets  nature  did  withhold, 
From  the  material  mind  of  modern  man. 
But  baffled  in  my  search,  I  grew  morose, 
Till  doubt  triumphed  and  canker'd  in  my  soul; 
For  years  I  lived  in  this  despairing  mood, 
Until  death  robbed  me  of  my  son  and  heir; 
Then  through  my  sorrow  and  my  suffering, 
Was  I  brought  into  faith.    For  then  I  found 
The  loss  of  my  child's  love,  was  far  more  great 
To  bring  me  unto  God,  than  all  the  orbs 
That  mark  the  boundary  of  the  stellar  way. 

Alexis : 

Well  said,  Simonides.    How  I  exult 
When  as  a  man  of  science  you  admit 
That  all  the  heavenly  bodies  are  as  naught 
Against  the  value  of  a  single  soul. 
Now  let  us  hear  from  Cleo.    She  is  fair, 
And  lures  men  on  to  danger  and  to  death, 
For  by  her  potent  art,  she  kills  the  soul. 
Speak  up  Cleo!    How  came  the  tenebraes 
To  send  you  here  in  astral  form  tonight, 


24-0         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

For  they  well  know  your  sinister  designs, 
That  you  but  live  to  damn  the  souls  of  men. 

Cleo: 

Thou  speakest  like  the  Oracle  of  Old, 
Once  famed  on  Delphi's  hills.    But  I  care  not 
For  thy  fine  words  that  bitterly  denounce 
My  office  and  my  calling.    You  well  know 
Your  weight  against  me  in  the  present  world, 
Is  likened  to  a  feather  'gainst  a  mount 
Of  hardest  granite.    Therefore  blame  me  not, 
For  I  am  but  a  creature  of  the  thought 
That  pulses  through  the  erring  hearts  of  men. 
I  am  their  own  creation.    Should  they  change 
The  current  of  their  thought,  I  would  decay 
And  mingle  with  the  primal  elements, 
And  Cleo's  long  influence  would  be  gone. 
But  I  fear  no  such  end  in  this  world  age. 
The  homage  I  receive  hath  made  me  bold, 
And  they  indeed  are  great  who  can  resist, 
The  power  of  enchantment  that  I  wield. 

Alexis: 

Cleo,  thou  hast  done  well,  for  it  is  true 
Thou  are  a  product  of  the  thought  of  man. 
And  now  dear  friends,  Isolde  will  come  forth 
And  likewise  make  obeisance  unto  thee. 

Isolde : 

I  am  a  simple  shepherdess  who  lives 

Not  too  far  inland  from  the  Aegean  sea, 

For  when  the  day  is  clear,  from  the  high  hills, 

I  see  the  wave  caps  dance  in  summer  air. 

You  know  from  the  deep  violet  I  wear, 

That  I  love  nature  in  her  every  mood, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  241 

In  storm  as  well  as  sunshine.    When  a  child 
I  loved  to  herd  the  sheep  my  father  owned. 
At  early  morn  oft  have  I  drove  them  forth 
'Ere  Sol's  pearl  rays  bestreaked  the  purple  East. 
Throughout  the  day  I  loved  to  watch  them  feed 
And  crop  the  tufts  of  short  nutritious  grass, 
That  grows  so  sparingly  on  mountain  soil. 
Then  with  my  reed,  I'd  breathe  forth  melodies, 
That  broke  in  echoes  on  the  rugged  peaks 
And  lulled  my  spirit  into  ecstasy. 
As  I  did  then,  so  do  I  now.    The  maid 
Is  but  a  grown  up  child.    She  loves  the  scenes 
So  sacred  to  her  memory.    Loyal  still 
To  all  that's  fair  in  Nature,  she  remains 
A  shepherdess  today,  and  tends  her  sheep. 

Alexis : 

A  simple  speech  I  must  perforce  declare, 
Was  uttered  by  the  shepherdess.    She  speaks 
In  language  most  effective;  for  it  springs 
Direct  from  her  pure  heart.    Umenes  now 
The  famous  anchorite,  must  next  address 
Our  most  august  assembly. 

Umenes : 

Good  master  and  kind  friends,  in  me  you'll  find, 
A  man  of  simple  mien,  and  humble  heart, 
Who  lives  secluded  from  the  changing  world, 
In  that  far  country  called  the  isle  of  Crete; 
There  in  a  peaceful  vale  surpassing  far 
The  famous  Temple  on  Thessalian  plains, 
Long  years  ago  I  built  my  hermitage, 
And  chose  the  calling  of  an  anchorite. 
For  growing  weary  of  the  world's  deceit, 
And  craving  peace,  I  found  it  could  not  give, 


242         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

I  fled  from  men  and  their  ambitious  schemes 

And  chose  the  friendship  of  the  Sons  of  God. 

Behold  the  pale  blue  raiment  that  I  wear, 

Doth  symbolize  devotion  in  the  soul; 

For  they  who  wear  this  color  are  devout, 

And  spend  much  time  in  prayer  and  orison. 

Some  say  that  we  are  idlers  and  vain  men, 

Who  all  our  lives  but  meditate  and  pray; 

And  that  an  anchorite  from  duty  flees, 

On  his  retiring  to  a  desert  cell. 

But  they  speak  from  a  knowledge  of  the  world, 

And  that  low  form  of  knowledge  we  condemn; 

We  anchorites  and  hermits,  as  of  Old, 

Have  raised  our  prayers  and  our  orisons 

To  that  great  fount  of  knowledge,  and  we  know 

We  are  united  to  the  Lord  of  Light, 

Who  reigns  in  glory  through  Eternity. 

Alexis : 

Umenes  hath  well  spoken.    It  beseems 
The  calling  he  has  chosen  is  sublime, 
For  he  and  his  associates  are  few, 
And  sparsely  scattered  through  the  solitudes. 
I  love  the  aims  his  order  holds  so  high, 
For  they  present  reality,  although 
According  to  the  wisdom  of  the  world, 
They  are  as  nothing  in  the  eyes  of  men. 
Now  let  the  young  Antinous,  sally  forth 
And  with  his  gifted  speech  and  mystic  spell, 
Enhance  the  pomp  and  power  of  our  play. 

Antinous : 

Dear  friends  and  good  companions,  you  all  know 

That  I  live  in  the  city  of  Old  Rome, 

And  from  that  ancient  center  I  go  forth 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  243 

To  guide  my  friends  upon  the  astral  plane; 

It  is  my  bounden  duty  to  impart 

A  knowledge  of  such  nature  to  the  soul, 

That  I  release  it  from  its  bonds  of  clay, 

And  in  a  form  more  glorified  and  pure, 

It  mounts  with  me  to  regions  new  and  strange; 

And  there  its  consciousness  expands  so  far 

That  it  perceives  more  than  the  world  reveals; 

Then  is  it  in  condition  fit  to  know 

The  heights  to  which  it  may  claim  heritage, 

And  n'er  more  doubts  its  immortality. 

In  that  exalted  region  it  perceives 

The  hidden  springs  of  wisdom.    In  its  joy 

Fain  would  it  stand  forever  by  my  side, 

To  dwell  in  glory  in  this  radiant  sphere. 

But  by  a  law  of  justice  most  Divine 

I  send  it  back  to  its  sad  earth  again, 

Where  it  must  pass  the  trial  its  Lord  demands, 

'Ere  it  would  share  the  glories  it  hath  seen. 

Now  this,  dear  friends  is  what  the  Fates  ordain, 

To  be  my  present  office  in  this  life; 

O'er  all  the  souls  that  rightfully  aspire 

To  reach  the  heights  of  knowledge  and  of  love, 

I  keep  most  constant  watch.    And  when  the  light 

Hid  in  some  ardent  heart  leaps  into  flame, 

I  know  a  soul  hath  wakened  unto  Life, 

And  in  my  keeping  is  henceforth  consigned. 

And  then  upon  a  night  most  opportune — 

The  body  wrapt  in  sleep — I  take  the  soul 

And  show  it  heights  to  which  it  will  be  heir. 

So  august  and  so  striking  is  the  scene, 

Which  that  evolving  soul  perforce  beholds, 

That  on  awaking  it  is  made  to  know, 

That  this  experience  is  no  common  dream. 


244-        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Alexis : 

Antinous  hath  done  well.    His  noble  speech 

Reveals  a  high  and  constant  character; 

Well  suited  to  the  work  he  hath  in  hand. 

Now  that  each  actor  hath  been  introduced, 

By  chosen  speech  and  accents  all  their  own, 

Tis  time  that  we  begin  our  astral  play, 

Which  we  have  called  "The  Drama  of  the  Soul." 

First  let  us  supplicate  the  mighty  Power, 

The  author  of  all  life  in  changing  form, 

By  that  same  paen  of  praise  we  always  sing, 

On  each  occasion  of  our  mystery  play. 

SONG. 

Almighty  Father!   Dwelling  far 
Beyond  the  wheeling  orbs  of  change, 
Beyond  the  beam  of  faintest  star, 
And  glorious  seraph's  highest  range; 
Oh!  Lord  of  Light!     Come  thou  anear 
And  to  our  paen  of  praise  give  ear. 

Oh  formless  Being!    We  depend 

For  life  and  hope  and  strength  on  Thee. 

Thou  who  hast  given  us  power  to  send, 

Our  astrals  over  land  and  sea; 

Oh,  Lord  of  Lords  and  All  in  All, 

Hear  Thou  Thy  servants'  humble  call. 

Almighty  Father!    Who  hast  veiled 
Thy  glories  from  the  race  and  clan, 
Concealing  that  which  prophets  hailed 
As  manna  for  the  soul  of  man; 
God  of  the  Worlds!    Descend  this  hour 
And  make  us  feel  thy  wondrous  power. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  245 

In  future  cycles  man  will  know 
The  mystic  tie  he  bears  to  Thee; 
Lord  of  the  life  wave's  ebb  and  flow, 
Co-dweller  with  eternity; 
Ancient  of  Days,  Oh,  Lord  Thou  art 
The  Treasure  of  the  Pure  in  Heart! 

Amen. 


Cleo: 

Since  I  exemplify  the  modern  world, 

Tis  meet  and  just  that  each  created  soul 

Falls  under  my  enchantment.     Lest  perchance 

'Tis  given  special  grace  to  turn  from  me ; 

For  there  are  souls  I  cannot  even  lure 

From  the  strict  path  of  duty. 

Alexis : 

And  dost  that  give  thee  pain? 

Cleo: 

Indeed,  for  then  I  fail  to  satisfy 

The  evil  forces  and  malignant  thoughts 

That  brought  me  into  Being.     But  I  find 

Such  souls  so  very  few,  that  I  pass  on 

To  welcome  streams  of  souls  that  come  to  me 

Most  welcome  though  unbidden.     By  my  art 

My  realm  is  presented  passing  fair, 

And  I  cast  such  a  glamour  o'er  the  soul 

That  it  at  once  falls  down  and  worships  me. 

Isolde : 

So  came  the  young  Antinous  in  his  youth, 
But  thy  cursed  spells  did  not  detain  him  long; 
For  he  perceived  the  way  to  happiness, 


246        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Lay  not  in  vanity  and  pride  of  life ; 
Then  in  his  sorrow  did  he  turn  to  me, 
For  thou  did'st  wound  him  so.     His  tortured  soul 
Cried  out  in  anguish  for  that  healing  balm, 
Nature  reserves  for  those  who  come  to  her 
All  bruised  and  scarred  by  the  lustful  world; 
Silence  and  solitude,  these  blessings  twain, 
He  found  beside  me  in  the  wilderness. 

Alexis : 

And  how  long  did  he  tarry  there  with  thee? 

Isolde : 

Throughout   the   length   of   one   whole  summer 

time, 

The  young  Antinous  was  content  with  me. 
At  first  he  was  morose — much  given  to  thought, 
And  in  abstraction  passed  the  weary  hours. 
At  length  he  rallied  from  his  way  of  gloom, 
And  deigned  to  follow  me  about  the  land; 
From  that  time  on  his  dormant  courage  rose 
And  he  accompanied  me  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
And  found  delight  in  my  society. 
With  nimble  fingers  I  would  fret  the  reed, 
And  draw  therefrom  such  soul  entrancing  strains, 
That  we  were  lost  in  rapture  at  the  sound 
Which  such  a  simple  instrument  gave  forth. 
Then  on  a  day  when  we  had  climbed  a  hill 
Of  whiten'd  rocks  to  view  the  Aegean  sea, 
He  gave  expression  to  the  pure  desire 
Deep  hidden  in  his  heart.     With  singing  voice 
And  accents  musical,  he  chanted  forth, 
A  poem  like  the  raphsodists  of  Old, 
Were  wont  to  body  forth  in  ancient  Greece. 
So  pure  and  noble  were  the  sentiments 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  247 

To  which  his  thought  gave  utterance,  that  I  wept 
To  find  a  soul  like  his  so  young  and  pure. 
Perchance  Antinous  can  recall  the  words 
That  had  so  deep  a  meaning.     For  I  feel 
It  is  but  meet  that  he  recite  them  here. 

Alexis : 

Stand  forth   Antinous ,  and  repeat  for  us 

That  wond'rous  thought  Isolde  holds  so  dear. 

Antinous : 

'Tis  a  short  poem  that  I  did  indite, 

When  prompted  by  my  muse  on  that  fair  day, 

We  climbed  a  whiten'd  hill  that  we  might  view 

The  snowy  wave  caps  of  the  Aegean  sea. 

I  called  it,  "Meditations  on  Old  Age," 

Here  are  the  lines  my  muse  ascribes  to  me ; 

'Tis  you  to  judge  if  they  be  good  or  ill : 

When  I  have  reached  the  limit  of  my  time, 
And  look  back  o'er  my  years  in  goodness  spent, 
I  shall  not  greet  each  day  with  sorrow's  wail, 
Nor  feed  on  bitter  memories  of  the  past. 
But  with  abiding  faith  in  that  great  Cause, 
The  Author  of  my  source  and  origin, 
I  shall  collect  the  number  of  my  years, 
And  they  will  form  a  chaplet  of  rich  pearls 
To  be  grouped  into  decades.     On  each  bead 
Some  mark  of  special  merit  I  will  find; 
Some  token  or  reward  for  some  good  deed, 
Done  in  the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice. 
Thus  shall  my  years  become  my  rosary, 
From  it  shall  rise  my  thanks  and  orisons 
To  that  great  Fount  of  Goodness.     I  will  know 
That  such  prize  is  the  valued  recompense 
Of  one  who  lived  and  breathed  in  the  Lord. 


248        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Alexis : 

The  thought  expressed  herein  is  most  sublime, 
No  greater  aim  could  the  evolving  soul, 
Put  forth  in  subtler  language. 

Isolde : 

Such  was  my  own  belief,  and  thereupon 

I  did  advise  Antinous  to  go  forth 

Into  the  Isle  of  Crete.    There  he  would  find 

The  good  Umenes,  master  in  the  art 

Of  living  most  devout.     For  thus  I  thought : 

Antinous  growing  weary  of  the  world, 

Seeks  first  the  silence  of  my  solitudes; 

This  gives  him  rest  and  quiet.     Then  he  grows 

Away  from  that  false  world,  for  Nature's  balm 

Is  far  more  potent  to  relieve  the  soul, 

Than  consolations  from  the  dearest  friend. 

Then  on  my  good  advice  he  journeyed  forth 

To  find  Umenes  in  the  Isle  of  Crete; 

Of  his  long  journey  to  that  distant  isle, 

Tis  meet  he  should  in  his  own  words  relate. 

Antinous : 

Come  forth  Umenes,  I  would  speak  with  thee. 

Umenes : 

On  what  theme,  good  Antinous,  should  we  speak? 

Antinous : 

Of  happy  hours  I  spent  alone  with  thee, 

In  contemplation  in  thy  desert  cell. 

Umenes: 

Yea,  I  recall  the  time  we  tarried  there, 
Sometimes  in  blissful  silence;  then  again 
We  talked  of  God  and  his  Great  Providence, 
That  brought  you  to  me  in  my  desert  place; 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  249 

Yet  I  exulted  in  your  company, 

For  you  loved  nature  in  her  every  mood — 

The  surest  mark  of  an  aspiring  soul. 

Antinous   : 
What  were  the  magic  hours  I  loved  the  more? 

Umenes : 

The  hour  preceding  that  of  early  morn, 

And  time  of  hallowed  eve,  were  by  you  loved. 

Antinous : 

Indeed,  I  love  the  coming  of  the  day, 

When  fair  Aurora,  goddess  of  the  dawn, 

Sends  up  the  East  her  joyful  harbinger, 

With  what  deep  notes  the  lusty  cock  proclaims, 

The  speedy  advent  of  another  morn. 

Then  doth  a  glowing  light  of  Orient  pearl, 

Which  is  in  truth  the  herald  of  the  sun, 

Diffuse  itself  upon  the  face  of  heaven, 

Where  robed  in  glory,  chants  the  morning  star. 

Alexis : 

Antinous  hath  turned  poet,  for  his  words 

Have  that  true  ring  of  poetry  in  them. 

Umenes : 

I,  too,  appreciate  his  glowing  lines, 

Though  I  love  more,  his  purity  of  heart, 

Which  hath  advanced  him  from  a  common  man, 

To  that  of  guide  upon  the  astral  plane. 

Simonides : 

Had  he  no  thirst  for  knowledge  in  the  years 

That  marked  his  first  withdrawal  from  the  world? 


250        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Umenes: 

In  him  the  pride  of  life  was  wholly  gone, 

And  so  could  not  be  changed  to  pride  of  mind. 

Cleo: 

Umenes  truly  speaks;  for  had  there  been 
The  slightest  taint  of  pride  left  in  the  heart, 
Cleo  had  seen  that  pride  of  life  be  changed, 
Into  the  pride  of  mind.    With  subtle  means 
She  would  have  chained  him  to  his  intellect 
And  dwarfed  his  intuition  for  all  time. 

Umenes: 

Then  'twixt  the  voice  of  conscience  and  the  world, 
You  interpose  the  plane  of  intellect, 
And  on  this  field  you  battle  for  the  soul! 

Cleo: 

Quite  right,  Umenes.    Thou  has  spoken  well, 
And  on  this  field  of  battle  I  have  waged, 
A  most  victorious  war. 

Isolde : 

Hast  thou  no  place  for  pity  in  thy  heart 

For  all  these  vanquished  souls? 

Cleo: 

Not  I.    For  they  have  made  me  by  their  thought, 

And  if  I  have  a  heart,  'tis  hardened  steel; 

For  in  my  Being,  I  epitomize 

All  the  collected  Evil  of  the  world. 

'Tis  on  the  field  of  intellect  I  wage 

My  deadliest  war.    For  intellect  is  cold, 

And  claims  proud  Science  as  its  votary. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  251 

Behold  the  vain  astronomer  who  marks 

The  circles  on  the  heavens.    To  his  mind 

The  mighty  Cosmos  is  a  sepulchre 

From  which  the  dead  therein  shall  never  rise. 

Oh  Intellect!    Thy  reign  in  this  sad  age, 

Hath  made  vain  man  more  brutal  than  the  brute, 

And  filled  misguided  hearts  with  hate  and  guile. 

Isolde : 

The  good  Antinous  then,  was  proof  against 

The  magical  enchantments  Cleo  wields. 

Umenes : 

Because  his  heart  was  of  that  quality 
That  reaches  past  the  intellect,  he  gained 
The  heights  of  intuition,  there  to  rove 
In  fields  of  bliss  forever.    Some  there  be 
Who  come  in  contact  with  the  intellect, 
And  yet  escape  the  web  that  Cleo  weaves; 
If  this  should  be  their  fate,  they  suffer  more 
Than  did  the  good  Antinous,  for  they  grow 
At  first  aweary  of  the  gaudy  world, 
That  holds  them  so  securely  in  its  thrall; 
And  so  they  turn  to  intellect  to  find 
That  after  years  of  unremitting  toil, 
The  canker  of  ambition  hath  but  changed 
The  outermost  appearance  of  its  form. 
Then  are  they  bound  to  suffer  tortures  dire, 
And  misery  unspeakable,  till  they  burn 
The  vestiges  of  pride  from  out  the  heart. 

Simonides : 

As  one  who  hath  been  tortured  by  such  fire, 
Let  me  recite  the  history  of  my  soul, 
And  how  I  purged  it  of  base  elements 
'Ere  I  could  reach  to  higher  planes  of  life. 


232         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Alexis : 

Now  friends,  pay  heed  to  good  Simonides, 
And  be  not  loth  to  give  him  both  your  ears, 
For  he  is  wise  in  that  on  which  he  speaks. 

Simonides : 

Know  then  good  friends,  that  I,  Simonides, 

Was  born  of  wealthy  parents  in  a  land 

Where  rank  and  title  are  respected  more 

Than  human  life  itself.    To  such  extent 

Is  riches  glorified,  that  he  who  fails 

To  pile  up  treasure  in  material  things, 

Is  counted  fool  or  knave,  and  sometimes  both. 

I  was  the  only  child  my  mother  bore, 

Doomed  from  my  infancy  to  never  know 

The  sweet  influence  of  parental  love. 

For  'ere  my  second  birthday  marked  its  round, 

Upon  the  circling  threshold  of  the  year, 

A  pestilential  plague  broke  o'er  the  land 

And  scattered  death  and  ruin  in  its  wake. 

No  human  power  could  stay  the  awful  course, 

Of  that  grim  Presence  sweeping  country  wide, 

That  lay  whole  fields  and  cities  desolate. 

Contagion  spread,  until  my  parents  both 

Were  carried  off  by  the  devouring  scourge. 

Then    was    I    reared    through    childhood    and 

through  youth, 

Up  to  the  time  of  my  majority 
By  strangers  whom  the  law  perforce  appoints 
In  the  exigencies  of  such  a  case. 
At  last  when  I  reached  manhood's  early  prime, 
My  peers  had  for  me  all  that  due  regard, 
That  goes  with  name  and  station.    In  their  eyes 
I  was  a  lord  and  master,  born  to  lead 
My  nation  on  to  fratricidal  war, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  253 

And  raise  her  ensign  over  all  the  globe. 

So  my  misguided  peers  so  honored  me — 

Fawned  at  my  feet,  and  in  such  attitudes 

So  servile  and  debasing  made  me  feel 

That  such  conventions  were  not  genuine; 

And  thereupon,  like  King  Canute  of  Old, 

I  held  them  up  to  ridicule  and  smiled 

At  the  low  stage  of  their  duplicity. 

For  as  the  king  his  courtiers  once  rebuked, 

For  their  assent  at  his  prepos'trous  claim, 

That  he  could  stem  the  current  and  the  tide 

That  rose  and  fell  upon  the  restless  sea, 

So  I  rebuked  my  worshippers.    To  my  mind 

They  were  ignoble  sycophants  whose  aim 

Was  but  to  court  some  favor  by  such  art. 

About  this  time  I  met  a  simple  maid, 

With  whom  I  fell  in  love,  and  wooed  and  won; 

She  was  a  modest  soul  and  in  her  eyes 

It  seemed  to  me  there  glowed  the  light  of  heaven. 

Ten  years  we  lived  in  happiness  and  joy ; 

Then  from  our  union  there  was  born  a  son. 

Then  faster  beat  my  heart,  for  now  at  last 

The  Fates  had  brought  to  me  a  boy  and  heir. 

But  not  an  heir  to  worldly  wealth  alone, 

Would  be  his  privilege;  for  I  had  grown 

Away  from  sordid  thoughts  that  worldly  men 

Hold  as  their  one  ambition.    And  of  late 

I  had  eschewed  the  world,  and  made  me  friends 

Of  men  who  followed  science,  and  thereby 

Were  famous  for  their  knowledge,  and  received 

Much  homage  from  their  peers.    Here  I  declared, 

Will  I  find  rest  from  shams  and  all  deceits 

That  mark  the  epoch  of  our  modern  days. 

So  with  them  I  devoted  all  my  time 

To  wrest  from  Nature  through  the  intellect, 

The  secrets  she  withheld  from  common  minds. 


254         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Secluded  on  a  lonely  mountain  top, 

We  labored  long  and  late.    Sometimes  the  morn, 

Streaking  the  Orient  with  his  purple  rays 

Still  found  us  at  our  tasks,  though  pale  and  worn. 

United  in  our  work  we  made  our  lives 

A  sacrifice  to  knowledge,  not  to  men. 

With  super-human  insight  we  would  trace 

The  path  of  some  lost  orb  that  long  ago, 

Had  vanished  from  the  vision  and  the  range, 

Of  savants  who  had  lived  in  earlier  times. 

Then  through  our  magic  tubes  we  sounded  depths 

Past  human  comprehension  and  foretold, 

The  breaking  up  and  making  of  new  worlds 

And  the  return  of  comets.    Vast  as  was 

The  scope  and  magnitude  of  such  research, 

Yet  in  it  all  there  was  no  thought  of  God. 

About  this  time,  my  simple  loving  wife, 

Grown  weary  of  my  absences  from  home, 

Had  found  love  in  another,  and  had  gone 

With  her  affinity,  to  parts  unknown. 

Left  with  my  son,  my  sole  thought  was  of  him; 

How  I  would  mould  his  future  by  my  care. 

With  greater  ardor,  therefore,  I  applied 

Myself  to  my  great  work,  and  hoped  thereby 

That  when  my  son  reached  his  majority, 

He  would  fall  heir  not  only  to  my  wealth, 

But  also  share  with  me  emoluments, 

That  were  beyond  the  reach  of  common  men. 

So  ran  my  thought.    I  was  ambitious  still  ; 

'Though  in  my  darken'd  mind  I  knew  it  not. 

I,  who  had  gauged  the  star  depths  and  brought 

forth 

The  secrets  of  the  Cosmos,  was  to  fail 
To  set  the  bounds  of  life  for  my  own  son. 
In  one  short  year  he  died,  and  I  was  left 
With  my  abstruse  deductions  all  alone. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  255 

Twas  then  such  deep  emotions  seized  my  soul, 
That  I  gave  up  the  friendship  of  my  peers, 
And  locking  myself  up  in  my  own  home, 
Lived  thus  in  utter  silence  for  some  years, 
Had  I  the  tongue  of  seraph,  I  would  fail 
To  body  forth  in  speech  the  agonies 
And  bitter  grief  of  heart  that  crushed  me  down. 
At  times,  when  anguish  had  so  worn  me  out, 
I  would  fall  on  my  wretched  bed  and  cry : 
"Where  is  my  little  son,  that  I  loved  so, 
The  only  object  in  this  universe, 
That  held  a  claim  on  my  poor  throbbing  heart. 
Where  is  he  now?    Oh,  that  some  mighty  Power 
Would  yield  him  to  my  arms  for  one  short  hour, 
And  let  me  clasp  his  little  form  again. 
Then  in  the  moment  of  my  bitter  grief, 
The  stricken  voice  of  conscience  that  had  lain 
Dormant  so  many  years,  revived  and  spoke 
In  accents  stern,  a  message  most  severe: 
"On  whom,  oh  man  of  science,  dost  thou  call, 
In  this  thine  hour  of  trial  and  agony; 
If  to  the  stellar  depths,  thou  fain  would'st  pray 
Seek  then  the  company  of  thy  compeers, 
And  through  the  magic  tube,  essay  with  them, 
To  find  the  world  to  which  thy  son  hast  gone. 
For  surely,  men  to  which  your  rank  belong, 
Need  bow  to  no  Divinity,  when  grief 
Removes  the  vigor  and  the  life  from  them. 
Or  better  still,  take  all  the  stars  of  heaven 
And  group  them  in  one  place,  and  ask  thyself 
If  all  the  stellar  splendor  can  compare 
To  that  sweet  memory  of  thy  little  One. 
Thou  knowest  it  cannot,  and  'tis  because 
Thy  son  possessed  a  soul  that  he  outweighs, 
All  this  mute  splendor  of  the  universe. 
And  then  I  conquered  pride  and  cast  it  forth 


256        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Out  of  my  heart  forever.    Then  I  came 
Into  a  second  childhood,  and  found  peace 
Within  myself.    Then  Intuition  came, 
Revealing  depths  that  lay  within  the  heart, 
Far  more  profound  in  mystery  and  in  Truth, 
Then  those  great  gulfs  in  the  etheric  space, 
That  span  the  star  drifts  in  the  milky  way. 

Alexis : 

So  by  the  loss  of  your  own  son  and  heir, 

Were  you  brought  into  life. 

Simonides : 

Most  truly  so.    The  pride  of  intellect 

Had  claimed  my  heart.    The  loss  of  my  dear  son, 

Was  that  stupendous  price  I  had  to  pay, 

'Ere  knowledge  would  be  given  me. 

Alexis : 

And  art  thou  now  content? 

Simonides : 

Yes,  doubly  so,  for  through  the  higher  force 
That  animates  my  Being,  I  have  seen 
Such  visions  and  such  semblances  of  truth, 
That  I  no  more  doubt  immortality. 

Alexis : 

You  say  you  have  renounced  forevermore 

The  false  light  of  the  intellect? 

Simonides : 

The  yellow  robe  that  now  my  shoulders  grace, 
Symbolical  of  intellect,  will  soon  give  way 
To  that  deep  blue,  the  good  Umenes  wears. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  257 

Alexis : 

Simonides  hath  spoken  well  of  pride 

And  doubt,  its  natural  outcome.    Cleo  knows 

The  consequence  when  pride  rules  in  the  heart. 

Cleo,  stand  forth  and  to  our  company, 

Make  plain  the  chaos  that  results  from  pride. 

Cleo: 

'Twould  be  a  long  recital  did  I  go 

Into  the  minor  details  of  this  force 

With  which  the  modern  man  destroys  himself. 

Sufficient  'tis  to  know  that  intellect, 

The  idol  that  men  worship  in  this  age, 

Is  the  sole  origin  of  all  the  ills 

With  which  they  are  afflicted.    Did  they  know 

That  intellect  stands  sponsor  for  all  sin 

And  is  the  parent  of  deceit  and  lies, 

They  would  abandon  it  in  one  short  day 

And  cleave  to  intuition  their  one  hope, 

But  I  am  here  digressing.    I  was  called 

To  speak  on  pride  alone,  and  the  effect 

That  pride  itself  will  bring  upon  a  race. 

Know  then  that  pride,  the  child  of  intellect, 

Derives  its  strength  from  a  material  world 

And  is  confined  to  that  narrow  plane, 

Where  mankind  battles  for  supremacy; 

For  pride  engenders  doubt  and  when  the  mind 

Is  impressed  by  a  force  outside  itself, 

The  soul  is  so  conditioned  that  it  sleeps 

As  in  a  trance-like  state,  and  wakens  not 

Until  it  breaks  its  prison  bars  of  pride, 

And  gains  by  this  one  act,  its  liberty. 

Antinous : 

And  this  one  act  whereby  the  soul  might  gain 

Its  everlasting  freedom,  you  oppose? 


258        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Cleo: 

Because  I  am  a  product  of  that  force 

That  plays  throughout  the  lower  universe, 

And  by  my  nature,  I  can  do  aught  else 

But  manifest  the  force  that  plays  through  me. 

Antinous : 

And  well  I  know  that  you  dare  not  betray 
The  Evil  force  that  brought  you  into  form; 
For  'tis  that  force  alone,  that  gives  you  life — 
The  only  life  that  you  will  ever  know. 
So  when  I  speak,  'tis  not  for  argument, 
But  merely  to  make  clear  to  Anthony, 
Who  is  our  honored  guest  this  brilliant  eve, 
The  everlasting  truths  that  underlie 
The  everchanging  scenes  of  mortal  life. 

Cleo: 

Then  I'll  go  on  and  give  in  outline  bold, 
The  direful  denouements  that  befall, 
The  race  or  nation  when  impelled  by  pride, 
Tis  hurried  to  extinction  and  to  death. 

Antinous : 

Proceed.    The  players  and  the  guests  will  hear 

From  heartless  Cleo,  her  becoming  speech. 

Cleo: 

When  in  the  course  of  time,  the  soul  hath  lost 
Her  pristine  beauty,  in  a  world  of  sense, 
And  looking  outward  only,  seeks  to  find 
Rest  and  contentment  in  some  other  sphere, 
'Tis  then  I  grasp  my  opportunity, 
And  cast  a  glamour  o'er  her  faculties, 
And  shroud  her  deep  and  deeper  into  form, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  259 

And  draw  her  further  from  Reality. 

When  safely  wrapt  in  my  ensnaring  nets, 

The  little  flame  that  God  set  in  the  heart 

Is  by  the  world  of  matter,  thickly  veiled, 

So  that  it  n'er  perceives  a  spirit  form, 

Or  evidence  of  things  above  its  plane. 

So  in  its  narrow  prison,  it  becomes 

A  worshipper  of  intellect  and  puts  forth 

All  of  its  energy  to  outward  things. 

Thus  bound  by  laws  of  matter,  it  abhors 

The  laws  of  spirit  and  descends  to  depths 

That  bind  it  to  illusion  more  and  more. 

Then  pride  begins  to  reign,  and  from  her  seat 

The  demon  doubt,  is  welcomed  in  the  heart, 

And  made  an  ally  of  ignoble  pride. 

Then  from  these  two,  is  born  both  hate  and  fear; 

Until  the  man  unconscious  of  his  soul, 

Takes  on  a  form  of  character  as  vile 

As  that  low  form  of  world  he  functions  in. 

To  his  low  state  of  consciousness  appeals 

The  vanity  and  glory  of  the  world, 

To  be  the  one  Reality  he  knows. 

And  so  he  pins  his  faith  upon  a  reef, 

That  sinks  when  tides  of  human  passion  burst 

In  all  their  fury  round  his  little  isle. 

Then  men  seek  glory  in  material  things, 

The  seeking  after  riches  and  the  race 

For  honors  in  that  world  of  changing  form. 

Then  commerce  must  expand  and  nations  vie 

And  meet  each  other  on  the  field  of  war; 

Till  blood  runs  knee  deep  on  the  gory  fields. 

And  all  this  carnage  is  the  one  result 

And  culmination  of  the  damning  lie, 

That  each  man  is  a  law  unto  himself 

And  must  compete  against  his  brother  man, 

For  the  sham  prizes  of  a  passing  world. 


260        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

And  so  the  play  moves  on,  until  the  time 

Is  so  far  ripe,  that  divers  nations  fall 

And  souls  by  myriads  are  condemned  and  lost. 

Antinous : 

And  all  this  springs  from  intellect  and  pride? 

Cleo: 

Assuredly.    For  that  one  end  I  live, 

And  lure  men's  souls  to  worship  these  two  gods, 

Till  drunk  at  sight  of  blood,  they  reel  about 

To  perish  in  a  hideous  dance  of  death. 

Antinous : 

Thy  speech  was  well  delivered,  and  it  leaves 
An  impress  on  the  fancy,  for  it  shows 
Thy  subtlety  of  power. 

Cleo: 

Aye,  that  I  know,  and  this  red  robe  I  wear 
Doth  signify  the  blood  through  which  men  walk 
Who  live  in  shadow  and  abhor  the  light. 

Antinous : 

The  color  is  in  keeping  with  the  thought 

That  men  send  out  to  thee.    On  that  high  plane 

Where  I  conduct  the  waken'd  souls  to  life, 

Such  shades  of  lurid  red  are  never  seen. 

Alexis : 

Enough,  kind  friends,  of  subjects  so  abstruse, 

And  disquisitions  learned  and  profound, 

Of  truths  and  beauties  hid  in  nature's  realm, 

That  baffle  science  and  philosophy. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  261 

Come  forth,  Isolde,  thou  of  simple  speech, 
With  good  Umenes,  the  old  anchorite 
And  fair  Antinous;  gather  all  you  three 
Around  my  ivy  seat;  and  when  I  strike 
The  vibrant  strings  of  my  pure  silver  lyre, 
And  wake  the  sleeping  echoes  in  the  hills, 
The  fair  Isolde  will  at  length  relate, 
Some  peaceful  theme  or  gentle  episode 
That  hath  a  bearing  on  our  mystery  play; 
Although  more  simple  and  in  lighter  vein. 

Isolde : 

'Tis  sweet  to  gather  on  a  night  like  this 

Round  our  beloved  leader  and  recite 

In  simple  words  and  mild  phraseology, 

Some  tale  or  poem  that  the  heart  holds  dear. 

How  sweet  it  is  to  move  in  ambient  air, 

Made  vibrant  by  the  music  of  his  lyre, 

Whose  silver  notes  rebounding  through  the  hills 

Reach  to  the  moonlit  vales. 

Antinous : 

Aye,  sweet  it  is  to  wander  forth  at  night, 

When  full  orb'd  Dian  casts  her  silver  light, 

O'er  all  the  woods  and  fields; 

'Tis  then  the  traveller  viewing  from  afar, 

The  splendid  luster  of  some  trembling  star, 

Knows  it  to  be  an  orb  that  on  this  night 

Is  dimmed  in  splendor  by  that  mellow  light, 

The  full  orb'd  Dian  wields. 

Isolde : 

Once  in  my  childhood,  I  remember  well, 

It  was  on  such  a  night  that  I  beheld 


262        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

The  fairies  dancing  on  a  rock  crowned  hill, 
With  sprites  and  gnomes  that  bore  them  com- 
pany. 

Anon  some  reveller  that  had  left  the  band 
Returning  on  a  starbeam  would  descend, 
From  unseen  fields  of  air,  and  be  received 
By  glad  acclaim  from  all  the  company. 

Antinous : 

Aye,  'tis  a  time  when  magic  goeth  forth 
To  steep  the  fancy  in  forgetfulness, 
And  touches  souls  of  even  boorish  men 
With  a  deep  sense  of  beauty.    I  have  known 
The  crudest  minds  to  feel  the  influence 
That  broods  o'er  nature  in  this  witching  hour, 
But  come,  Umenes,  why  remainest  thou 
So  quiet  in  thy  place? 

Umenes : 

Forgive,  Antinous,  my  abstracted  mood, 

For  I  was  so  united  to  thy  thought, 

I  had  forgot  myself,  for  in  this  time 

The  hallowed  influence  that  nature  wields, 

Doth  overcome  my  spirit  and  I  muse. 

Antinous : 

On  what  dost  thou  muse? 

Umenes : 

On  that  eternal  Beauty  that  doth  claim, 
The  homage  and  the  love  of  those  dear  souls 
That  worship  at  her  shrine. 

Antinous : 

Aye,  dear  to  nature  too,  are  those  pure  souls, 
For  they  possess  that  magic  quality 
That  makes  them  always  very  near  to  her. 
They  are  her  happy  children,  and  they  love 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  263 

Her  outward  beauty  so,  that  she  unveils 
And  gives  her  mighty  secrets  up  to  them. 

Umenes : 

Aye,  they  are  great  in  their  humility; 

Their  virtues  are  the  wonder  of  all  time, 

And  their  lives  form  the  theme  so  often  sung 

By  seer  and  psalmist;  for  they  travelled  far 

Toward  her  shrines  of  beauty.    I  have  felt 

A  glamour  oft  steal  o'er  me,  when  at  times 

I  sat  me  down  beside  a  purling  rill, 

And  heard  no  sound  break  on  my  solitude, 

Save  that  of  gliding  water  o'er  the  stones; 

Or  moan  of  evening  winds.    How  beautiful 

To  view  the  saffron  streaks  of  early  morn, 

That  flaming  in  the  Orient  bring  the  day! 

How  fair  the  night  is!    Then  Dian,  queen 

Of  her  imperial  realm,  exalted  reigns; 

While  all  the  hosts  of  heaven  illume  her  course 

And  form  about  a  shining  tapestry, 

That  gleams  aloft  and  sheds  its  sparkling  light 

In  heavenly  glory  far  beyond  her  throne. 

Isolde : 

And  this  is  Nature.    In  her  pensive  mood 

She  wooes  thee  with  her  maiden  gentleness 

To  gaze  upon  her  beauty,  but  anon, 

She  makes  thee  conscious  of  a  Titan's  strength, 

By  doffing  pensive  moods  and  to  assume 

The  wild  sublimity  of  her  active  states. 

Antinous : 

Tis  said,  my  friends,  that  everything  that  is, 
Hath  its  own  time  and  place.    If  that  be  so, 
Then  you  are  all  at  fault  and  do  me  wrong, 


264-        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

For  you  digress  too  much,  and  lose  the  time 
That  you  should  hallow  to  the  work  in  hand. 
For  you  well  know,  that  'ere  this  charming  night 
Hath  reached  its  noon,  our  astrals  must  depart, 
To  join  their  fleshly  forms.    Then  mark  the  time 
And  waste  no  moments  more  in  idle  speech, 
In  praise  of  Nature,  that  we  know  so  well. 

Isolde : 

I  was  commanded  by  our  sovereign  guide, 

To  chant  in  song  or  poem,  or  recite 

In  homely  words,  some  tale  or  history 

That  hath  a  bearing  on  this  mystery  play; 

So  I  will  to  the  point  and  wait  no  more. 

Antinous : 

Well  then  be  brief  and  cut  thy  verses  down, 

And  be  not  guilty  of  redundancy. 


THE  EPISODE  OF  ISOLDE 

Upon  a  stretch  of  yellow  sandy  beach, 
Where  whiten'd  wave-caps  broke  along  the  shore, 
And  the  surge  murmured  with  a  moaning  tone, 
Two  children  were  at  play — a  girl  and  boy. 
The  girl,  a  child  of  nine,  who  was  as  fair 
As  a  fresh  rose  in  June,  and  the  glad  boy 
Whose  age  was  only  seven,  romped  and  played 
And  shouted  with  his  sister  on  the  beach, 
When  the  incoming  waves  washed  on  the  shore, 
Some  curious  form  of  sea  shell  that  he  prized 
More  than  the  gold  of  Ophir.    So  they  played 
On  summer  afternoons  along  that  stretch 
Of  ocean  beach  I  know  so  well.    The  boy, 
Exulting  in  his  daring  and  his  strength, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  265 

Would  sometimes  bring  more  treasure  from  the 

sea, 

Then  his  less  favored  sister.    Then  she'd  weep 
To  think  her  courage  had  been  overmatched 
By  one  of  younger  years.    And  then  the  boy 
So  moved  to  pity  by  his  sister's  tears, 
Would  put  his  little  arms,  all  bronzed  and  tanned, 
By  wind  and  sun,  around  her  sobbing  form, 
And  promise  nevermore  to  rob  the  sea 
Of  all  its  treasure.    Then  as  if  to  bind 
Himself  to  such  agreement,  he  picked  out 
The  choicest  shells  from  his  own  little  store 
And  gave  them  all  to  her,  to  be  her  share. 
So  through  the  long  September  afternoons, 
Played  Leo  and  Lenora  on  the  beach, 
That  stretched  its  yellow  sands  so  far  away, 
Until  it  met  that  point  of  earth  and  sky 
Where  Leo  said  it  faded  into  air. 

Now  through  the  years  of  childhood  innocence, 

This  boy  and  girl  no  separation  knew; 

For  they  lived  in  each  other.    If  sometimes 

They  would  be  thrown  apart  for  one  half  hour, 

Lenora  would  inquire  where  Leo  was, 

And  Leo,  looking  everywhere,  would  ask 

Where  is  Lenora  gone?    And  so  they  grew 

Bound  up  in  such  a  close  companionship, 

They  felt  each  other's  every  joy  and  pain. 

Once  on  a  time,  Lenora,  with  a  shell, 

Had  cut  her  little  finger  so  it  bled, 

And  in  her  dire  extremity,  she  ran 

Right  straight  on  to  her  mother,  who  bound  up 

The  injured  member  in  a  cotton  cloth, 

And  told  her  to  go  out  and  play  again. 

But  Leo  would  not  go,  for  he  too,  felt 

The  pain  his  sister  bore,  and  must  likewise 


266        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Have  his  small  finger  rubbed  with  salve  and 

wrapped, 

And  bound  with  cloth  in  just  the  very  way, 
His  mother  had  rewrapped  and  bound  and  tied 
The  finger  of  Lenora.    Then  he  felt 
The  pain  no  more,  and  ran  on  to  the  beach 
To  join  his  sister  at  her  play,  and  watch 
The  crests  and  wave  caps  of  the  summer  sea 
Break  all  along  the  sands  in  whiten'd  spray. 

Thus  passed  the  years  of  that  sweet  innocence, 
Which  only  childhood  knows.    I  need  not  state 
These  children  grew  to  be  the  only  joy 
And  idols  of  their  parents.    Many  a  time 
The  mother,  watching  with  a  loving  eye, 
The  gambols  of  the  children,  would  inquire 
Of  the  proud  husband,  what  he  held  in  store 
For  Leo  and  Lenora.    In  her  thought 
She  had  conceived  a  future  for  these  two, 
Somewhat  at  variance  from  the  common  trend 
And  outline,  that  becomes  an  average  mind. 
But  Stephen  Bond,  the  father,  was  a  man 
Who  busied  himself  in  the  world's  affairs, 
And  looked  askance  at  ideals  which  Louise, 
His  loyal,  loving  wife,  so  often  held. 
So  when  she  questioned  him  as  to  his  wish 
Regarding  the  dear  children,  he  would  say: 
You  can  do  with  Lenora,  as  you  will 
And  train  her  in  all  feminine  conceits, 
That  suits  your  erring  mind.    Teach  her  to  pound 
The  piano's  ivory  keys,  until  she  faints 
From  sheer  exhaustion.    Or,  better  still, 
Confine  her  day  and  night  in  some  small  room, 
And  have  her  trace  through  long  and  weary 

hours, 
Some  seemingly  invisible  design, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  267 

Of  intricate,  though  puzzling  needle  work 

Until  her  eyesight  fails.    I'll  n'er  object. 

But  Leo  is  my  charge.    He  is  a  boy 

And  represents  my  sex,  and  I  will  see 

That  he  is  schooled  in  all  those  manly  arts, 

That  most  become  a  man.    So  when  he's  called 

To  battle  with  the  world,  he  will  be  strong 

In  heart  and  mind,  and  never  flinch 

From  tests  that  this  progressive  age  demands. 

Thus  Stephen  would  give  outline  to  his  will 

Regarding  little  Leo.    Then  the  wife 

Assuming  a  crest  fallen  dubious  air 

Would  say  no  more.    Though  once  there  came  a 

day 
When  Stephen  asked  her  what  she  had  mapped 

out 

For  Leo  in  the  future.    She  replied 
That  Leo  had  a  fine  artistic  sense 
And  vision  of  the  beautiful,  and  drew 
Quaint  pictures  on  the  sea  shells  which  he  found 
Along  the  beach,  when  he  was  a  mere  child 
Of  scarce  six  years.    That  she  had  watched 
His  growing  talent  year  by  year,  until 
She  was  convinced  beyond  all  shade  of  doubt, 
That  in  this  field,  his  true  vocation  lay. 
E'en  yesterday,  the  good  Louise  declared, 
He  drew  upon  a  piece  of  harden'd  wood,          *«  i 
A  picture  of  his  sister.    So  exact 
Were  all  the  curves  and  lines  of  her  dear  face, 
That  neighbors  calling  in  that  afternoon, 
Had  but  to  take  a  single  glance  to  know 
It  was  Lenora's  likeness.    What  a  joy 
Should  not  both  parents  feel,  to  have  a  son 
Who  showed  a  talent  so  remarkable 
In  his  first  tender  years.    Should  they  not  thank 
The  Lord  of  all  Creation,  for  his  gift, 


268        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

That  found  expression  in  their  flesh  and  blood, 
Within  the  precincts  of  their  humble  home? 
Should  they  not  give  at  least  encouragement, 
To  such  ennobling  effort  and  assist 
Their  son  to  reach  his  station  in  the  world, 
And  make  himself  position  and  a  name? 
Thus  reasoned  the  good  wife,  but  her  appeal 
Made  no  impress  on  Stephen,  for  he  grew 
The  more  obdurate  still,  and  paid  no  heed 
To  any  of  her  wishes,  but  instead 
Abused  her  in  such  language  that  she  left 
His  presence  all  heart  broken,  and  sought  out 
The  children,  whom  she  found  alone  at  play, 
Down  in  a  little  alcove  by  the  sea. 

The  fleeting  years  passed  on.    Lenora  grew 
Into  a  splendid  type  of  womanhood 
And  reached  her  eighteenth  year.    Leo,  the  boy, 
Sought  hard  to  please  his  father;  though  'twas 

plain 

His  efforts  were  apparent  and  not  real; 
For  we  express  the  promptings  of  the  heart, 
Jn  spite  of  intervention,  that  would  place 
A  form  upon  the  life  it  will  not  wear. 
So  Leo  could  not  wear  the  form  of  life 
His  father  chose  to  give  him,  but  instead 
.       Still  clung  to  those  dear  ideals  that  had  made 
The  glory  of  his  childhood,  and  unseen 
And  hidden  safely  from  his  father's  eyes, 
He  filled  his  hours  of  leisure  with  the  work 
He  cherished  in  his  heart.    In  a  small  room 
Protected  from  his  father's  prying  eyes, 
His  mother  made  a  studio  for  him, 
And  fitted  it  with  screens  and  canvasses, 
With  pallettes,  brushes  and  accessories, 
And  items  that  pertained  to  that  fine  art 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  269 

That  Leo  loved  so  well.    In  this  retreat 

Leo  spent  hours  as  if  in  Paradise, 

And  lost  all  sense  of  time.    His  favorite  theme 

Was  always  of  the  sea — the  restless  sea — 

Along  whose  shore  he  played  when  a  child 

With  his  beloved  Lenora.    It  was  meet 

That  symbol  of  immensity  should  be, 

The  chief  work  of  his  genius.    It  recalled 

The  tender  memories  of  that  happy  time 

When  with  his  darling  sister,  they  portrayed 

The  happy  innocence  that  God  alone 

Protects  and  strengthens  by  the  light  of  heaven. 

One  day,  when  Stephen  Bond,  returning  home, 

Asked  hurriedly  for  Leo,  and  was  given 

No  satisfactory  answer,  he  became 

Somewhat  suspicious,  and  declared  of  late, 

He  thought  his  family  was  deceiving  him, 

And  thereupon  set  out  to  search  the  house 

And  bring  the  wily  Leo  forth  to  prove, 

The  truth  of  his  contention.    So  he  searched 

In  every  room,  until  at  last,  he  came 

Before  the  door  of  Leo's  studio, 

And  then  he  paused,  as  if  to  gather  strength 

Before  he  would  attempt  to  burst  it  in. 

The  good  Louise,  who  all  the  while  had  prayed 

That  Stephen  would  not  find  the  hidden  door, 

Now  felt  her  beating  heart  rise  to  her  throat 

When  she  beheld,  with  a  fond  mother's  eye, 

What  the  enraged  man  was  prone  to  do. 

Then  Stephen  growing  bold,  and  mad  with  rage, 

Charged  on  the  door,  and  with  a  single  bound, 

Leaped  into  his  son's  room.    There  Leo  stood 

Unmoved  and  unconcerned  with  brush  in  hand 

Before  his  finished  picture  of  the  sea. 

Then  shouted  Stephen:    So  I  found  you  out; 


270        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

You  and  your  mother  have  deceived  me  long, 
And  would  deceive  me  longer.    Now  go  forth 
Into  the  world  and  make  your  way  alone. 
You  had  a  father's  loving  aid  and  care, 
But  now  deserving  neither,  you  can  go 
From  out  my  sight  forever.    My  fond  wish 
Was  that  you  might  become  a  man  'mongst  men 
And  bear  some  name  and  weight  of  character; 
But  that  faint  hope  is  gone,  to  come  no  more. 
So  go!    And  go  at  once,  or  by  the  gods, 
I'll  cut  you  down  on  this  same  cursed  spot 
Where  I  engender'd  you  and  brought  you  forth. 
Now  go!    And  may  my  everlasting  curse 
From  this  day  forth  take  wings  and  follow  you. 
Then  Leo,  crushed  in  spirit,  left  the  house 
And  felt  his  cheeks  burn  from  the  scalding  tears, 
That  fell  so  fast  upon  them.    On  the  beach 
He  met  his  loved  Lenora,  and  told  her 
The  sorrow  that  had  fallen  on  the  home. 
She,  like  a  good  Samaritan,  poured  forth 
Such  streams  of  loving  kindness  from  her  heart, 
That  Leo  felt  relieved  and  dried  his  tears. 
Weep  not,  she  said,  for  it  is  Providence 
That  sends  you  forth,  and  not  your  father's  rage. 
Go  forth,  but  go  forth  bravely  and  fear  not; 
The  Fates  are  on  your  side,  and  you  will  win, 
But  I  must  stay  alone  with  mother  here. 
Together  we  have  grown  from  infancy, 
And  played  upon  these  shining  yellow  sands 
That  girdle  Neptune's  empire.    I  would  weep 
My  eyes  from  out  their  sockets,  did  I  see 
You  go  away  from  me  by  light  of  day. 
It  may  be  idle  fancy,  but  I  know 
I'll  n'er  endure  the  anguish  and  the  pain 
Of  conscious  parting  from  you,  Leo  dear! 
Now  list  what  you  must  do.    Stay  on  this  beach 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  211 

Till  evening  falls;  then  when  the  friendly  night 
Wraps  up  the  world  in  folds  of  ebony, 
Steal  you  to  my  bed  chamber.    But  first  take 
The  milk  white  rose  that  blooms  on  yonder  stalk 
Beneath  the  window  of  my  little  room, 
Then  enter  cautiously  and  by  the  light 
Of  a  small  taper,  which  I'll  leave  to  burn, 
Come  you  on  tiptoe  to  my  peaceful  couch 
Where  I  will  be  asleep.    Then  kiss  my  hand 
But  not  my  cheek,  for  you  might  waken  me. 
Then  leave  the  rose  upon  the  coverlet 
Right  near  the  hand  that  you  have  kissed  good- 
bye. 

Then  make  you  for  the  nearest  port  and  sail 
Far  from  your  father's  home.    Here,  take  these 

coins; 

Some  more  I'll  leave  you  on  that  white  bureau, 
That  stands  in  that  far  corner  of  my  room. 
Now  I  must  go.    Remember  what  I  say 
And  don't  forget  to  leave  the  milk  white  rose 
Upon  the  coverlet;  'twill  be  the  proof 
That  you  have  followed  your  dear  sister's  will. 
Then  have  no  fear,  for  that  same  Providence 
That  sends  you  forth,  will  in  the  course  of  time 
Bend  that  obdurate  will  of  Stephen  Bond 
And  make  him  cry  to  have  his  son  with  him. 

That  very  night,  when  darkness  cover'd  o'er 
The  face  of  things,  Leo,  the  outcast  son 
And  heir  of  Stephen  Bond,  crept  like  a  thief 
Toward  his  sister's  chamber.    By  the  light 
Of  that  dim  taper  which  she  left  to  burn 
Upon  the  bureau,  he  discerned  her  form 
Stretched  out  in  peaceful  sleep  upon  her  couch; 
Then  going  forward  up  to  where  she  lay, 
He  knelt  him  down  as  though  beside  a  bier 


272        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

And  seized  the  hand  that  lay  so  white  and  still 
Upon  the  coverlet,  and  pressed  it  hard 
Against  his  lips,  a  dozen  times  or  so; 
Then  dropped  the  rose,  as  she  had  bade  him  do, 
Almost  within  her  palm.    Then  with  a  moan 
Of  anguish  half  suppressed,  lest  he  should  wake 
His  sister  or  the  members  of  the  house, 
He  stole  from  out  the  old  ancestral  home, 
To  never  cross  his  father's  threshold  more. 

Three  fleeting  years  had  passed,  and  Stephen 

Bond 

Was  shatter'd  so  in  mind  and  lost  such  strength 
And  buoyancy  of  spirit,  that  he  failed 
To  keep  his  proud  position  in  the  world. 
Among  his  many  friends — men  of  affairs — 
Far  famed  in  trade  and  commerce,  and  upheld 
By  Powers  higher  still,  in  that  great  field 
Of  finance  and  of  politics,  he  lost 
Or  seemed  to  lose,  the  customary  power 
That  he  had  heretofore  held  over  them. 
The  neighbors  were  the  first  to  note  this  change 
That  had  come  over  Stephen,  and  some  said, 
Who  had  surmised  correctly,  that  it  was 
The  absence  of  his  son,  that  caused  him  grief 
And  that  the  shade  of  sorrow  o'er  the  home, 
Was  more  than  he  could  bear.  They  sympathized 
With  him,  and  said  it  would  be  best  to  cast 
His  troubles  on  the  shoulders  of  the  Lord. 
And  even  went  so  far  as  to  suggest 
That  he  retire  to  some  secluded  place 
Where  change  of  scene  and  of  environment, 
Would  bring  relief,  of  which  he  stood  in  need. 

So   thought  his  friends.     For  in   their  simple 

hearts 
They  never  dreamed  that  Stephen  had  denounced 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  273 

His  son,  and  was  himself  the  cause  of  all 
This  dire  misfortune  that  had  come  to  him. 
Within  the  home,  Lenora  and  Louise, 
The  loyal  mother,  kept  the  secret  well. 
'Though  grief,   their  pale   companion,  followed 

them, 

And  feasted  on  their  hearts,  they  murmured  not, 
And  though  three  years  had  passed  since  that 

sad  day, 

That  Leo  left,  it  was  yet  evident 
That  all  the  marks  of  sorrow  still  remained. 
Sometimes  when  the  fond  mother  was  engaged 
In  household  duties,  she  was  seen  to  pause 
And  wipe  away  the  hot  unwelcome  tears 
That  settled  in  the  sluices  of  her  eyes, 
'Ere  she  could  recommence  her  work  again. 
Lenora,  once  so  fair,  though  somewhat  pale, 
Grieved  less  than  her  dear  mother,  and  declared 
That  Leo  lived  and  they  would  hear  from  him. 
For  if  the  Will  of  Providence,  she  said 
Had  sent  him  forth,  it  likewise  would  protect 
And  care  for  him  wherever  he  might  be. 
The  mother  often  wondered  at  such  faith, 
And  told  the  friendly  neighbors,  who  would  come 
To  visit  and  console  her,  that  the  Lord 
Had  been  at  least  still  merciful,  to  leave 
Lenora  to  support  and  strengthen  her 
Through  such  a  trial  and  sorrow,  and  would  say 
That  were  it  not  for  this  abiding  hope 
That  came  from  her  Lenora,  she  would  die. 

So  fared  the  inmates  of  that  ruin'd  home 
Where  sorrow  came  to  dwell  and  reign  supreme. 
But  what  became  of  Leo?    Were  the  Fates 
More  kind  to  that  poor  outcast  then  they  were 
To  those  he'd  left  so  hurriedly  behind? 


274-        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Bereft  of  home  and  friends,  the  wanderer 
Though  sometimes  downcast,  and  at  times  per- 
turbed, 

Was  withal  stout  of  heart,  and  met  his  Fate 
With  such  unflinching  courage  that  he  felt 
Surprised  at  his  own  strength  to  live  it  through. 
In  that  first  year  of  absence,  he  maintained 
Himself  by  such  hard  labor,  that  at  times 
He  thought  he'd  n'er  endure  the  galling  strain. 
But  Nature  is  so  mindful  of  her  own, 
And  guards  with  such  solicitude  and  care, 
The  children  of  her  heart,  that  she  n'er  fails 
In  certain  course  of  time,  to  prove  to  them 
That  she  is  their  protectress,  and  reveals 
Through  divers  dreams  and  visions  of  the  night, 
A  guiding  power  so  strange  and  wonderful, 
That  they  become  obedient  to  her, 
And  follow  all  her  promptings,  and  abjure 
The  noises  and  the  tumult  of  the  world. 
And  so  it  fared  with  Leo,  for  his  time 
Of  exile  had  scarce  reached  its  second  year, 
When  he  was  likewise  told  to  journey  forth, 
Into  a  certain  country,  far  removed 
From  that  he  had  at  first  took  refuge  in. 
Here  Leo  found  some  deeply  learned  men 
With  whom  he  took  up  his  abode,  and  dwelt 
With  them  in  such  sweet  peace  and  harmony, 
That  oftentimes  he  felt  that  some  high  Power 
Was  consciously  directing  him  in  all 
His  work  and  effort;  for  among  those  men 
Were  talents  so  diverse  and  so  pronounced, 
While  all  the  lore  and  learning  they  possessed, 
Was  not  of  schools,  but  seemed  to  be  a  gift 
From  Heaven  itself,  for  they  revealed  to  him 
The  mystery  and  the  purpose  of  his  life; 
Assuring  him  that  everything  that  is, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  275 

Hath  purpose  and  intent  that  gives  it  place 

In  that  great  scheme  of  things  that's  called  the 

world ; 

That  even  that  deep  sorrow  of  his  heart, 
Was  no  mischance  or  accident,  but  was 
Ordained  and  prearranged  in  aeons  past 
By  the  Almighty  Fates,  and  was  a  trial 
So  put  upon  him  and  at  such  a  time 
As  was  propitious  and  most  opportune, 
For  his  required  development.    And  soon 
He  would  be  glad  and  satisfied  to  know 
The  sorrow  that  resulted  from  it  all, 
Was  for  his  own  uplifting,  and  would  praise 
The  Fate  that  seemingly  had  punished  him, 
As  his  great  benefactor  and  his  friend. 

Now  'mongst  this  brotherhood  of  learned  men, 
Where  Leo  sought  his  refuge,  there  was  one 
They  called  the  poet-painter,  for  he  knew 
The  art  of  painting  with  his  magic  touch 
Such  glowing  colors  on  his  canvasses, 
That  all  his  subjects  seemed  to  take  on  life 
And  be  endowed  with  motion  and  with  breath. 
Alcephas,  was  he  named;  and  to  his  art 
The  man  was  so  devoted,  that  he  spent 
Much  time  alone,  and  never  did  permit 
The  other  members  of  the  brotherhood 
To  see  him  at  his  work.    But  Leo  found 
A  ready  entrance  to  his  studio; 
And  when  the  others  saw  such  favor  shown, 
To  one  so  young  in  years,  they  knew  and  felt 
A  soul  of  rarest  quality  had  come 
To  live  and  dwell  among  them,  but  they  gave 
No  outward  sign  or  knowledge  of  the  fact, 
Or  by  no  word  or  speech  expressed  themselves, 
But  kept   their   thought   and   counsel   in   their 
hearts. 


276        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

So  'neath  the  gifted  master's  artist  eye, 
Was  Leo  privileged  to  recommence 
To  wear  the  form  of  Life  his  spirit  loved. 
The  sorrows  and  the  heartaches  of  the  past 
Had  been  alleviated,  and  they  formed 
A  kind  of  magic  background  and  a  place 
Or  region  of  enchantment,  for  they  held 
The  fountains  of  his  genius  all  concealed; 
And  when  in  thought  he  went  to  this  confine, 
He  gained  such  strength  and  subtlety  of  power 
That  he  oft  wondered  at  the  magic  feats 
His  talent  had  accomplished;  and  he  drew 
From  out  this  mystic  region  day  by  day 
Such  potency  and  quality  of  power, 
And  images  of  Beauty,  that  he  lost 
The  consciousness  of  sorrow  and  forgot 
He  was  the  outcast  son  of  Stephen  Bond. 

About  this  time  the  glory  of  his  fame 

Was  known  abroad,  for  by  the  Eastern  sea, 

In  a  great  city  on  a  foreign  shore, 

A  painting  was  exhibited,  that  bore 

"The  Ruined  Home,"  as  title  and  as  name. 

And  now  it  chanced  that  Stephen  journeying 

Throughout  that  country  to  recuperate, 

Came  to  this  very  city  with  some  friends; 

And  on  a  day,  the  weather  being  fine, 

Went  to  the  famous  salon,  where  the  Art 

Of  many  nations  was  exhibited. 

But  Stephen  showed  no  interest  till  he  came 

Before  that  painting  called  "The  Ruined  Home/' 

Then  with  a  cry  of  anguish  he  exclaimed: 

"My  God,  it  is  my  son  who  painted  this, 

For  there  he  stands  in  that  same  attitude 

Before  his  finished  picture  of  'The  Sea'! 

Oh  God  have  mercy  on  my  erring  soul 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  277 

That  I  was  so  unkind  to  banish  him." 
Then  with  a  groan  he  reeled  and  fell,  upon 
A  marble  bench  close  by  his  friends, 
Who  raised  him  from  the  seat  and  carried  him 

Away  to  his  apartments  in  a  swoon. 

****** 

Another  year  had  passed  and  Leo  found, 
That  Alcephas,  his  master,  was  revered 
And  honored  by  the  brotherhood  as  one 
Who  had  the  gift  of  prophecy.    In  turn 
Alcephas  had  instructed  Leo  well 
In  arts  of  Divination,  and  foretold 
The  coming  and  the  nature  of  events — 
The  rise  and  fall  of  Empires,  and  the  fate 
That  would  befall  the  most  ambitious  men 
Who  ruled  o'er  nations  and  their  destinies. 
Then  on  a  day — the  time  being  opportune — 
He  told  his  pupil,  Leo,  that  the  coast 
Whereon  his  family  dwelt,  would  be  submerged 
And  sink  beneath  the  waters  of  the  sea. 
And  then  he  named  the  date,  and  then  the  hour 
When  this  would  come  to  pass,  and  then  declared 
That  knowledge  of  this  kind  was  never  broached 
Or  breathed  forth  to  people  in  the  world. 
But  Leo  was  so  just  and  pure  of  heart 
That  for  his  sake,  exception  would  be  made 
And  he  would  be  allowed  to  forewarn 
His  relatives  who  sorrowed  in  his  home. 

O'er  joyed  beyond  all  bounds  to  be  of  aid, 

Leo  inquired  of  Alcephas  the  means 

That  he  had  best  employ  to  carry  out 

This  purpose  that  gave  hope  to  his  poor  heart. 

And  Alcephas,  the  master  who  was  versed 

In  supersensuous  arts  and  practices, 

Told  Leo,  that  upon  that  very  night 


278        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

He  must  go  back  in  memory  to  the  days 

Of  innocence  and  childhood  and  recall 

The  happy  time,  when  he  a  romping  boy, 

Played  with  his  little  sister  on  the  beach, 

And  brought  forth  shells  and  pebbles  from  the 

sea 

That  he  divided  with  her.    Then  again 
He  must  recall  most  vividly,  events 
Of  later  years  that  made  a  strong  impress 
Upon  his  fancy  in  that  day  and  time 
Of  early  youth,  when  he  exhibited 
The  talent  of  the  artist,  and  expressed 
The  form  of  life  his  spirit  fain  would  wear. 
So  must  his  thoughts  take  turn,  and  yet  in  all 
This  riot  of  the  fancy,  he  must  not 
Abandon  his  Lenora,  but  instead 
Make  her  the  central  figure  of  his  thoughts 
And  image  most  beloved.    Then  when  the  night 
Had  far  advanced,  and  closed  his  weary  eyes 
In  peaceful  sleep,  his  final  thought  must  be 
To  warn  her  of  the  doom  that  threat'nd  her, 
And  that  ill  fated  country  where  she  lived. 

Now  on  this  night,  Lenora  dreamed  a  dream 
That  had  such  a  significance  and  brought 
Such  glory  and  such  import  to  her  soul, 
And  had  withal  such  meaning  that  she  knew 
It  was  a  special  warning  sent  from  heaven. 

So  eager  was  Lenora  to  relate 

The  story  of  her  dream,  that  'ere  the  sun 

Had  streaked  with  silver  rays,  the  purple  East, 

She  called  her  parents  to  her  little  room, 

And  there  in  accents  scarcely  audible, 

Related  her  experience  of  the  night. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  279 

I  dreamed,  she  said,  I  was  a  child  again, 
And  played  with  little  Leo  on  the  beach, 
Where  the  surge  murmurs  with  a  moaning  tone. 
How  sweet  it  was  to  be  again  with  him 
As  in  the  days  of  childhood.    Mother  dear 
Forgive  your  loving  daughter  if  she  fails 
Because  of  that  sweet  memory  to  prevent 
This  dream  recital  by  a  flood  of  tears. 
I  said  I  was  with  Leo.    Yes,  we  played 
And  sported  in  the  waves,  and  climbed  ashore 
With  arms  as  full  of  treasure  from  the  deep 
As  in  the  days  of  Old.    Then  suddenly 
The  scene  was  changed ;  for  we  had  left  the  waves 
And  played  within  an  alcove  by  the  sea, 
Where  mother  came  and  found  us  all  alone, 
And  joined  us  in  our  play.    But  all  the  while 
She  wore  a  troubled  look,  as  if  some  thought 
Hung  heavily  on  her  mind.    And  then  she  wept 
When  Leo  drew  some  pictures  on  a  shell 
With  some  sharp  piece  of  flint  that  he  had  found 
Along  the  shore,  and  clasped  him  in  her  arms 
And  held  him  close  and  would  not  let  him  go 
Till  Leo  asked  the  cause  of  all  her  tears. 
And  then  she  loosed  her  hold,  and  Leo  slipped 
From  out  her  arms,  and  recommenced  to  make 
Quaint  markings  on  the  shells  that  he  picked  up 
Around  her  feet,  but  she  observed  him  not, 
But  fixed  her  gaze  upon  the  sea,  and  seemed 
As  one  whose  hopes  and  thoughts  were  far  away. 

Again  the  scene  was  changed.    Leo  the  youth, 
Spent  hours  alone,  as  if  in  Paradise, 
At  work  on  his  great  pictures  of  the  sea. 
I  marked  his  growing  talent  and  rejoiced 
That  I  possessed  a  brother  whom  the  Fates 
Ordained  for  such  a  calling.    I  was  glad 
To  know  his  greatest  theme  was  of  the  sea; 


280        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

With  an  artistic  fancy  he  portrayed 

The  ever  restless  motions  of  the  deep, 

In  storm  as  well  as  sunshine,  and  I  felt 

The  gods  had  surely  loved  him,  when  they  chose 

This  symbol  of  immensity  to  be 

The  chief  work  of  his  genius.    How  I  loved 

To  watch  his  eyes  beam  with  an  ecstasy 

At  those  strange  lights  and  shadows  which  he 

drew 
Upon  the  heaving  bosom  of  the  main. 

Again  the  scene  was  changed.  I  walked  the  beach 

Alone  in  the  full  prime  of  womanhood. 

Leo  was  gone,  and  I  had  mourned  for  him 

Till  I  could  weep  no  longer.    In  my  walk 

I  paused  near  by  a  little  stony  knoll, 

And  sat  me  down  to  rest.    Then  suddenly 

Leo  appeared,  all  clothed  in  shining  white, 

And  held  his  hands  toward  me.    With  a  cry 

I  rose,  and  going  forward,  dropped  my  head 

Upon  his  bosom  in  such  ecstasy 

That  I  indulged  in  the  sweet  joy  of  tears; 

Then  he  embraced  me,  Oh  so  tenderly! 

And  stroked  my  hair,  and  told  me  that  he  lived. 

Be  of  good  cheer,  he  said,  for  I  am  sent 

To  warn  you  of  a  danger  that  impends 

O'er  your  ill  fated  country,  and  your  home. 

Remember  well  that  'ere  the  morning  sun 

Paints  seven  more  times,  his  glorious  fields  of 

light, 

This  coast  on  which  we  stand,  will  shift  its  base 
And  sink  beneath  the  waters  of  the  sea. 
Meanwhile,  make  preparation  to  depart 
Forevermore  the  region  and  the  place, 
That  holds  all  those  sweet  memories  of  your  life, 
But  I  must  caution  you  to  observe  well 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  281 

The  import  of  my  message,  and  command 

That  you  warn  our  dear  parents.    Tell  them  all 

I  have  told  you.    Tell  father  that  the  Fates 

Were  kind  to  his  poor  son,  and  favored  him 

Through  divers  ways  and  acts  of  Providence, 

That  gave  him  strength  and  courage  to  o'ercome 

His  loneliness  of  heart  and  guided  him 

Unto  a  haven  of  sweet  rest,  near  by 

The  pale  blue  waters  of  the  Eastern  sea. 

There,  with  a  brotherhood  of  learned  men, 

Leo,  his  boy,  has  lived  in  Paradise, 

And  wears  the  form  of  Life  his  spirit  loves; 

For  great  in  holiness  and  sanctity 

Are  these  wise  men  with  whom  his  Leo  dwells ; 

Men  who  abjured  the  world,  and  sought  with  zeal 

The  Tree  of  Life  Eternal,  and  were  given 

Knowledge  and  lore  and  gifts  of  prophecy; 

There  would  I  have  you  with  me.    So  prepare 

To  take  our  parents  with  you.    Waste  no  time, 

But  sail  on  to  the  Northward,  till  you  pass 

A  thousand  leagues  of  coastline,  then  direct 

Your  course  to  West,  not  more  than  fifty  leagues, 

And  you  will  pass  through  straits,  that  lead  you  on 

To  that  pale  haven  called  the  Eastern  sea. 

Now  farewell  sister;  be  of  good  cheer 

And  do  that  which  I  have  commanded  you. 

Again  the  scene  was  changed.    Leo  had  gone 

A  little  distance  from  me.    Though  he  smiled 

He  spoke  no  more,  but  raised  his  hand  as  one 

In  act  of  parting  from  a  soul  he  loved ; 

And  then  his  form  dissolved  and  seemed  to  fade 

Into  the  air.    Then  with  a  cry  of  pain 

At  his  departure,  I  awoke  to  find 

Myself  upon  my  couch  and  felt  the  tears 

That  stained  my  woman's  cheeks.    Mother  I  know 

My  dream  involves  a  prophecy  and  brings 


282        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

A  message  of  grave  import  to  us  all. 
To  be  regarded  as  a  sign  from  heaven. 

Scarce  had  the  sun  completed  two  more  rounds 

Upon  his  shining  path,  'ere  Stephen  Bond 

Accompanied  Lenora  and  his  wife 

On  that  far  journey  to  the  Eastern  sea; 

Along  the  coast,  a  thousand  leagues  they  sailed 

Straight  on  to  Northward.     Then  they  passed  the 

straits 

That  led  unerringly  to  that  calm  sea 
Described  to  their  Lenora  in  her  dream. 
Here  Leo  came  and  met  them  and  forgave 
His  father  for  his  error  in  the  Past, 
And  felt  once  more  that  blessed  influence 
That  comes  forever  from  parental  love; 
For  now  the  heart  of  Stephen  had  been  changed 
From  dross  to  gold  by  sorrow's  alchemy, 
And  he  was  privileged  thereby  to  know 
That  truth  and  beauty  dwelt  in  Leo's  soul; 
For  Leo's  name  was  honored  in  the  realm, 
Where  he  had  taken  refuge,  though  unknown 
To  any  one  as  Leo;  for  they  called 
Him  Diomed,  and  this  new  name  he  bore 
Was  given  to  him  by  Alcephas,  his  Lord 
And  Master,  who  guided  him  in  knowledge 
And  in  that  secret  technique  of  the  art 
Of  painting  with  such  magic  touch  and  skill 
And  supernatural  fancy,  that  the  name 
Of  Diomed,  was  honored  and  renowned 
For  that  strange  glory,  which  enveloped  all 
The  promptings  of  his  genius,  and  glowed  forth 
In  living  color  on  his  canvasses. 

So  Leo  had  his  wish  and  reconciled 
Again  to  his  dear  father,  felt  a  peace 
That  filled  his  aching  heart,  and  buried  all 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  283 

The  memories  of  the  past.    Not  far  away 

From  that  secluded  haven  where  he  dwelt, 

In  union  with  his  brothers,  he  advised 

His  father  to  erect  his  dwelling  place 

And  make  his  home.    Here  were  they  safe  removed 

From  that  impending  doom,  that  like  a  pall 

Hung  over  that  fair  country  they  had  left 

With  heartaches  and  misgivings,  far  behind; 

For  on  the  day  that  Leo  had  foretold, 

According  to  the  word  and  prophecy 

Of  Alcephas,  the  fate  that  threaten'd  them 

The  dire  event  had  come  to  pass,  for  all 

That  line  of  coast,  for  many  thousand  leagues 

Had  sunk  beneath  the  waves  to  rise  no  more. 

And  here  my  tale  hath  end,  and  shows  a  truth 

That  hath  much  bearing  on  this  mystery  play, 

And  holds  an  ideal  ever  pure  and  fair, 

So  far  above  the  tumult  of  the  world, 

That  fortunate  are  they  whose  vision  reach 

To  such  high  altitudes,  where  spirit  dwells. 

But  when  a  soul  is  found  in  true  accord 

With  that  great  Will  of  Spirit,  it  perceives 

More  worlds  than  sage  or  poet  e'er  hath  seen. 

So  fared  it  with  our  Leo.    Though  his  sire 

Exiled  him  from  his  home  and  drove  him  forth, 

An  outcast  on  the  world,  yet  there  he  found 

The  form  of  life  his  spirit  willed  to  wear ; 

So  fares  it  with  all  others  who  fulfill 

The  higher  laws  of  Being  and  aspire, 

Toward  the  heights  of  love  and  Deity; 

For  they  are  given  a  power  commensurate 

With  those  great  virtues  they  may  have  attained. 

They  bend  the  mighty  Cosmos  to  their  will, 

And  send  their  soaring  thoughts  from  star  to  star, 

And  shape  from  out  the  unseen  elements, 

Such  forms  and  dreams  of  Beauty  that  reveal 

Their  character  of  thought. 


284          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Alexis : 

Isolde  hath  done  well.    Her  simple  theme 

Hath  changed  somewhat  the  pompous  character 

And  spirit  of  our  play,  and  yet  conveyed 

The  truth  in  simpler  form. 

Antinous : 

And  in  her  closing  lines,  she  doth  suggest 

A  passing  thought,  of  which  we  might  make  use 

On  this  occasion  of  our  mystery  play. 

She  hath  declared  it  is  the  privilege 

Of  favored  souls  and  Beings  to  compel 

The  unseen  ether  and  the  elements 

To  build  up  forms  the  fancy  may  direct. 

Here  on  this  balmy  eve,  beneath  this  oak 

All  bathed  in  glorious  moonlight,  let  us  make 

A  fitting  end  to  this,  our  mystery  play. 

Let  us  create  by  our  all-powerful  thought, 

Such  forms  and  images,  that  will  take  part 

In  Bacchanalian  dance.    For  note,  the  night 

Is  well  advanced  towards  its  noon.    Cleo, 

Come  forth,  and  use  your  most  malignant  thought, 

And  make  two  forms  from  unseen  air  to  grace 

Our  evening  revelry. 

Cleo: 

If  you  so  will  it,  then  I  will  impinge 

My  thought  upon  the  astral,  and  bring  forth 

Two  female  forms  all  nude,  whose  wanton  grace 

Shall  far  outshine  pale  Virtue's  sickly  mien. 

No  raiment  shall  they  wear,  but  they  will  be 

All  garlanded  with  flowers,  that  depend 

From  rounded  shoulders  to  their  shapely  knees. 

Antinous: 

Then  keep  thy  thought  in  mind,  and  waver  not, 

For  you  well  know  your  thought  will  not  take  form 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  285 

Till  all  our  wishes  are  made  manifest. 

Then  when  Alexis,  strikes  his  silver  lyre 

Upon  a  sign  from  me,  all  images 

Created  on  the  astral,  will  come  forth 

To  follow  our  commands.    Umenes,  come! 

What  forms  would  you  desire  to  conjure  forth, 

To  join  this  evening's  merriment? 

Umenes : 

Two  anchorites,  your  lordship,  young  and  pale, 

Clothed  in  becoming  raiment  to  offset 

The  wanton  vice,  the  vicious  Cleo  loves. 

Antinous : 

Then  keep  thy  thought  in  mind;  for  they  come  not, 
Until  I  give  the  signal,  though  they  be 
Seraphic  forms  of  heaven,  or  imps  of  hell. 
Isolde,  thou  art  next;  what  simple  forms 
Would  you  bring  forth,  to  dance  this  Bacchanal? 

Isolde: 

Most  noble  lord,  two  fauns  with  pointed  ears, 
That  pipe  on  reeds  of  straw,  and  improvise, 
With  dulcet  breath,  some  old  Arcadian  air, 
In  memory  of  that  happy  age  of  Pan. 

Antinous : 

So  shall  it  be.    Thy  choice  is  very  wise, 
And  is  in  keeping  with  thy  character. 
Simonides,  what  forms  would  you  create 
From  those  unseen  and  higher  elements, 
To  pay  due  homage  to  the  god  of  Wine? 

Simonides: 

Two  satyrs,  would  I  have  with  cloven  feet, 

And  unkempt  beards  and  long  and  shining  teeth, 


286          THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

With  hairy  hips  and  features  all  deformed, 
To  pay  due  homage  to  this  drunken  god. 

Antinous : 

Alexis,  thou  art  last  to  make  thy  wish. 
What  forms  would  you  desire  to  body  forth 
To  grace  this  evening's  Bacchanal? 

Alexis : 

I  care  not  that  they  join  the  reeling  dance, 

So  I  would  have  two  centaurs,  charge  and  prance 

Around  the  moving  circle  and  display 

Their  shaggy  forms  against  the  pale  moonlight. 

Antinous: 

Now  harken  all  kind  friends  and  concentrate 
Your  thoughts  in  unison.    You  have  done  well 
And  in  your  choice,  have  made  variety. 
Now  when  I  give  the  sign,  let  each  one  clasp 
The  hand  that's  nearest  him,  and  though  it  be 
The  hand  of  friend,  or  object  of  his  thought, 
Let  him  not  hesitate,  but  clasp  it  firm 
And  form  the  circle  for  the  reeling  dance. 
Now  strike,  Alexis,  on  thy  quiv'ring  lyre, 
The  mystic  notes,  that  conjure  astral  forms. 
Aha!    They  come,  impatient  as  of  old 
To  join  us  in  our  play.    Clasp  hands  around 
And  raise  the  song  to  Bacchus,  god  of  Wine! 

BACCHANALIAN  SONG 

Hail  Bacchus!   god  of  wantoness, 

God  of  the  sparkling  wine; 
To  thee,  our  homage  we  address, 

To  thee  our  thoughts  incline; 
With  loving  ardor  we  profess 

To  worship  at  thy  shrine. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  281 

We  reel  and  dance 

While  centaurs  prance 
Around  on  every  side; 

While  maidens  fair, 
With  beauty  rare, 

Far  round  the  circle  glide. 

Hail  Bacchus!     Make  our  senses  reel, 

Here  'neath  this  oaken  tree, 
And  make  each  loyal  heart  to  feel, 

The  joy  of  revelry; 
And  let  no  timid  heart  conceal, 

The  debt  it  owes  to  thee. 

We  shout  and  sing, 

While  echoes  ring, 
Around  on  every  side; 

While  fauns  with  ears, 
Like  pointed  spears, 

Around  the  circle  glide., 

Hail  Bacchus!    Fill  us  with  desire, 

This  bright  October  eve, 
To  warm  with  a  poetic  fire, 

The  thought  our  fancies  weave, 
And  may  no  heart  within  our  choir 

Deign  evermore  to  grieve. 

We  sing  and  dance, 

While  moonbeams  glance, 
Around  on  every  side; 

While  satyrs  bold, 
With  faces  old, 

Far  round  the  circle  glide. 


288        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Antinous: 

What  ho!  ye  drunken  dancers,  pause  a  while, 
For  I  would  have  you  modify  and  change 
Your  character  of  song.    You  know  full  well 
That  this  whole  play  was  made  for  Anthony, 
Our  honored  guest,  who  lately  came  to  life; 
And  that  its  import  and  significance, 
Was  for  his  special  benefit  alone. 
Therefore  I  charge  you,  that  before  you  leave 
This  sylvan  scene  to  vanish  into  air, 
That  you  should  improvise  a  farewell  song 
And  sing  it  in  his  honor. .  Keep  the  forms 
Your  fancies  have  created,  at  your  sides 
Nor  let  them  go  until  the  song  is  done. 
Here,  form  in  semi-circle,  and  bow  low 
Before  our  honored  guest.    Then  when  I  give 
The  well  known  sign,  begin  the  chanting  strain ; 
But  mark  you,  that  you  pause  and  rest  awhile, 
Between  the  stanzas;  for  remember  well 
Alexis  sings  alone  the  sad  refrain. 
Then  at  another  sign,  you  all  join  in 
A  mighty  chorus  of  wild  melody 
Before  the  final  end. 

The  circle  has  been  formed.  The  players  bow, 

Antinous  gives  the  sign,  and  fancy  now, 

In  all  its  wildest  ravings,  n'er  could  see 

A  sight  more  glorious  than  this  grassy  lea 

Affords  this  moonlit  eve.  What  contrast  here, 

Upon  this  sloping  hillside  doth  appear! 

Maidens  and  men,  whom  heavenly  virtues  grace, 

Stand  close  to  Vice,  with  her  repellant  face, 

And  pleasure  nude,  suggests  her  sinful  rites 

Hard  by  the  side  of  two  old  Anchorites; 

Here,  fauns  on  reeds  of  straw,  breathe  dulcet  sound, 

That  pierce  the  ears,  and  all  our  wits  confound. 

While  stayrs  stand  anear  with  shaggy  hips, 

From  whose  long  hair  the  ooze  of  midnight  drips 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  289 

And  centaurs  gallop  through  the  grassy  lanes, 

As  once  they  bounded  on  Thessalian  plains, 

All  this  contrasting  life,  obesiance  makes 

Unto  young  Anthony,  and  undertakes 

In  unison  of  song,  to  certify 

That  in  his  character  great  virtues  lie. 

Antinous : 

I  give  the  sign.  With  modulated  voice, 

Begin  your  tuneful  strain  in  minor  key. 

The  players  in  chorus: 

Near  mountain,  plain  or  swelling  wave, 

Far  inland  or  at  sea, 

Our  intuitions  always  gave 

A  true  outline  of  thee; 

And  so  for  many  ages  past 

We  knew  thee  Anthony. 

We  saw  the  light  of  knowledge  burn, 
Deep  hidden  in  thy  heart; 
And  by  its  feeble  flame  discern, 
You  were  of  God  a  part ; 
Destined  to  rise  to  glorious  heights, 
By  Virtue's  potent  art. 

Alexis: 

Vibrate  ye  strings  of  my  pure  silver  lyre, 

And  give  forth  tones  of  such  rare  quality, 

That  mountain  streams  shall  pause   in   their  swift 

course, 
To  hear  the  praises  of  dear  Anthony. 

The  players  in  chorus : 
Rejoice!  Oh,  happy  soul,  rejoice! 
Unto  our  song,  give  ear; 
Join  us  with  gladsome  voice 


290        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

And  cadence  clear; 

To  reach  ecstatic  heights  of  song 

When  gods  appear. 

Rejoice!  Oh,  happy  soul,  and  sing, 

Sing  with  the  piping  fauns, 

Till  glad  hosannas  ring 

O'er  moonlit  lawns; 

For  you  in  golden  promise  bright, 

Life's  morning  dawns. 

Alexis : 

Join  in  the  rising  strains  ye  hills  and  vales, 
Resound  ye  groves  with  sweetest  symphonies; 
Ye  woodland  streams  and  mountain  cataracts, 
Unite  your  echoes  to  this  paen  of  praise. 

The  Players  in  Chorus: 

Exult!  Oh,  growing  god  and  feel 
New  powers  within  thee  rise, 
New  powers  that  bear  the  seal 
Of  happier  skies; 

For  you  have  won  a  faith  and  hope, 
That  never  dies. 

Exult !  Oh  gracious  soul,  and  know 

Eternal  Love  assails 

All  humble  hearts  that  glow, 

When  passion  fails, 

To  draw  them  from  the  heights  of  Truth 

That  God  Unveils. 

Ascend,  ascend  to  heights,  Oh  soul! 

For  past  the  poet's  dream ; 

Make  those  high  planes  thy  goal, 

Where  fancies  teem, 

Illumined  by  that  great  Sun  of  Truth's 

Eternal  beam. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  291 

Behold!  The  Tree  of  Life  is  thine. 

Angelic  voices  blend 

With  symphonies  Divine, 

That  never  end, 

And  on  thy  future  steps  to  bliss 

Seraphs  attend. 

Lift  up  thy  gaze  and  fear  no  more, 

Immortal  Son  of  Light, 

For  on  that  mystic  shore, 

The  sombre  night 

Of  sullen  doubt,  gives  way  to  Faith, 

Triumphant,  bright. 

Hear,  hear !  The  joyous  strains  that  rise, 

From  moonlit  hill  and  glen, 

The  evening  zephyr  sighs 

O'er  moon  and  fen; 

While  echoes  mingle  and  unite 

To  sing,  Amen. 

Antinous: 

What,  ho !  Ye  tuneful  singers,  'ere  ye  leave 
This  festal  scene  of  mirth  and  revelry, 
'Tis  meet  you  all  should  sing  in  lighter  vein 
A  song  of  farewell  to  our  Anthony; 
Make  not  the  strains  too  long,  for  midnight  now 
Soon  signals  our  departure.  Strike  thy  lute 
Alexis,  and  bring  forth  the  quiv'ring  strains; 
Then  sing  in  unison,  and  let  each  one 
Put  forth  his  noblest  effort  for  our  friend, 
For  years  may  pass  before  we  meet  again. 

The  Players  in  Chorus: 

Blessings  on  thee,  Son  of  Light ! 
Who  on  this  auspicious  night, 
Underneath  this  oaken  tree 


292        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

On  this  verdant  grassy  lea, 
Heard  such  truth  in  pompous  speech, 
Truth  the  inner  heart  would  reach 
Spoken  by  his  loyal  friends, 
Coming  from  the  earth's  far  ends, 
Saw  such  beauties  that  appear 
Only  to  the  eye  of  seer, 
Forms  from  out  the  ambient  air, 
Tripping  forward  to  declare 
Truths  of  weight  and  import  grave, 
Truths,  the  erring  world  would  save; 
In  a  setting  fair  and  bright, 
Magical  in  pale  moonlight, 
Aided  by  such  phantasies 
That  aspiring  spirits  seize, 
Where  a  glamour  underlies 
All  that's  seen  by  ravished  eyes, 
Where  a  charm  and  where  a  spell 
Hovers  over  hill  and  dell, 
Waiting  for  the  rising  strain 
From  our  chorus  on  the  plain, 
From  whose  breaths  and  dulcet  sighs, 
Sacred  tones  of  music  rise, 
Marked  at  times  with  wanton  glee, 
Mixed  with  sounds  of  revelry. 

Tripping  fauns  and  satyrs  bold, 
Maidens  coy  and  sages  old, 
Virtues  pale,  with  modest  air, 
Vices  gay,  devoid  of  care, 
All  unite  this  moonlit  eve, 
So  to  fashion  and  to  weave 
Such  enchantment  that  defies 
Cognizance  by  earthly  eyes. 

Now  the  hour  of  midnight  nears, 
And  the  full  orb'd  moon  appears 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  293 

Overhead  and  gives  the  sign, 
That  our  gambols  we  resign, 
That  we  leave  this  verdant  lea 
With  our  brilliant  company, 
To  depart  to  distant  shores; 
Where  the  surging  ocean  roars; 
Where  the  mountain  rears  its  form 
'Gainst  the  sunshine  and  the  storm ; 
Where  the  flower  spangled  plain 
Drinks  the  dew  and  drinks  the  rain. 

Years  may  pass  in  sad  review 
'Ere  our  friendship  we  renew, 
'Ere  Alexis,  with  his  lyre 
Tinged  with  bright  poetic  fire, 
Brings  us  'neath  this  giant  oak 
Where  the  sleeping  echoes  woke, 
And  we  wrought  from  out  the  air 
Forms  of  thought  and  beauty  rare. 

Now  the  evening  zephyrs  die, 
'Neath  fair  Luna's  silver  eye, 
In  the  glen  and  in  the  glade, 
There  is  left  no  tint  of  shade 
Comes  a  calling  from  the  hills, 
And  the  haunted  woodland  rills, 
Dwarfed  gnomes  and  mountain  sprites, 
Signal  now  their  last  good  nights, 
So  we  sing  farewell  to  thee, 
Farewell,  farewell,  Anthony. 

As  the  last  tones  of  the  song  died  away,  the  en- 
tire company  of  singers,  including  the  forms  they 
had  conjured  forth,  the  nude  maidens,  the  anchor- 
ites, satyrs,  piping  fauns  and  centaurs,  instantly  dis- 
appeared, as  if  they  had  vanished  into  air.  Un- 
der the  giant  oak,  where  they  had  spoken  of  the 


294        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

higher  things  of  life,  and  held  their  carnival  of  rev- 
elry, nothing  remained  but  a  grassy  lea,  covered  with 
autumn  leaves,  bathed  in  moonlight. 

"Come,"  said  Herminio,  "the  spectacle  is  over," 
and  rising  from  their  seat,  the  master  and  his  pupil, 
wended  their  way  toward  the  hermitage. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Picture  World 

Around  this  visible  diurnal  sphere 

There  floats  a  world  that  girds  us  like  the  space; 

On  wandering  clouds  and  gliding  beams  career 

Its  ever  moving  murmurous  Populace; 

There  all  the  lovlier  thoughts  conceived  below 

Ascending  live,  and  in  Celestial  shapes. 

To  that  bright  world,  Oh!  mortal,  wouldst  thou  go? 

Bind  but  thy  senses  and  thy  soul  escapes. 

—The  Ideal  World. 

On  the  following  morning,  Herminio  told  Anthony 
he  would  be  called  away  to  the  village. 

"There  are  urgent  matters  there,"  he  declared, 
"that  demand  my  attention.  The  work  will  take  an 
entire  week.  I  will  leave  every  morning  at  sunrise, 
returning  in  the  evening  at  sunset.  You  will  be  left 
here  alone  at  the  hermitage  during  the  day;  but 
there  is  a  work  I  will  ask  you  to  do  for  me." 

Then  taking  from  the  little  shelf,  where  he  kept 
his  library,  a  roll  of  parchment,  he  gave  it  to  Anth- 
ony saying: 

"This  is  a  treatise  written  in  French.  I  will  ask 
you  to  translate  it  into  Italian.  A  young  man  who 
lives  in  a  small  Italian  town,  has  lately  come  into  life, 
or  in  other  words,  has  reached  the  first  ascending 
stage  of  the  higher  consciousness.  He  deserves 
help,  but  since  he  can  not  read  French,  the  treatise 
must  be  translated  into  his  native  tongue — the  Ital- 
ian. So  I  will  expect  you  to  begin  work  on  it  today. 


296        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

When  I  return  tonight  you  may  refer  to  the  matter 
you  have  translated,  but  by  no  means  must  you  ask 
any  questions  regarding  the  astral  play  of  last  night, 
or  make  any  mention  of  the  beauty  or  mystery  that 
attended  it.  The  translation  of  the  treatise  wiU 
take  you  a  week's  time,  and  when  you  have  finished 
it  my  work  in  the  village  will  have  been  completed. 
Then  we  will  take  up  the  subject  of  the  astral  play- 
ers, and  I  will  be  glad  to  go  over  it  with  you,  and 
give  you  whatever  light  and  knowledge  you  at  pres- 
ent deserve." 

After  Herminio  had  gone,  Anthony  started  to 
work  on  the  treatise.  He  found  it  to  be  a  series 
of  rules  and  admonitions,  to  the  neophyte  who  was 
entering  the  occult  life.  Cheerfully  he  set  himself 
to  the  work,  for  he  felt  the  joy  of  service.  He  was 
helping  a  fellow  being  to  tread  his  first  steps  in  the 
world  of  spirit.  What  a  blessing  and  what  a  priv- 
lege  was  his!  Already  he  sensed  the  great  truth, 
that  the  pupil  in  time  must  become  a  teacher,  direct- 
ing others  in  the  perilous  path  to  knowledge. 

Herminio  returned  at  sundown.  After  they  had 
taken  supper,  the  sage  suggested  that  they  go  out 
into  the  yard.  "The  physical  man  needs  rest,  he 
declared,  and  the  arduous  nature  of  our  work  de- 
mands it.  Let  us  sit  out  in  the  open,  a  few  hours 
before  retiring,  and  you  may  ask  me  any  questions 
which  you  may  have  in  mind." 

In  answer,  Anthony  was  about  to  refer  to  the 
spectacle  of  the  previous  night,  but  remembering 
the  admonition  given  him,  he  checked  himself  and 
referred  to  the  subject  matter  of  the  treatise. 

"I  find,"  he  said,  "the  main  thought  which  the 
writer  expresses,  to  be  a  series  of  advices,  relative 
to  rules  and  conduct  of  life,  which  all  aspiring  souls 
must  necessarily  follow,  who  would  reach  to  the 
primary  stages  of  the  higher  consciousness." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  297 

"Yes,"  replied  Herminio,  "But  this  young 
man  is  at  present  not  aware  of  the  higher  thinggj 
at  all.  He  has,  however,  gone  through  certain  experi- 
ences, that  have  given  him  much  suffering  in  the 
physical  world.  He  has  grown  weary  of  the  physical 
life,  and  knows  it  to  be  inadequate  to  bring  him 
everlasting  happiness,  and  he  has  begun  to  ask  him- 
self the  why  and  the  wherefore  of  things.  Now  this 
growing  aweary  of  the  physical  life,  is  a  sure  sign 
that  the  soul  has  exhausted  the  experiences  of  the 
physical  plane,  and  is  preparing  itself  for  the  next 
step  in  its  drama  of  evolution,  where  higher  con- 
ditions will  be  staged.  When  this  desire  begins  to 
manifest  in  a  sincere  way,  there  is  always  a  teacher 
at  hand  to  guard  the  flame  in  the  soul,  until  its 
light  grows  strong  enough  to  shed  a  radiance  on 
the  next  plane  of  Being  and  awaken  the  astral  vision. 
In  the  present  case  the  young  man  in  question,  has 
of  course  found  his  teacher,  who  can  give  him  at 
present  only  hints  and  suggestions.  When  you  have 
finished  the  translation,  I  will  forward  it  to  this 
teacher,  who  will  in  turn  give  it  to  the  young  man, 
his  pupil.  Coming  from  his  teacher,  he  will  hold 
as  sacred  the  advice,  and  follow  it  to  the  letter. 
Then  when  his  astral  vision  awakens,  he  will  hold 
his  teacher  in  such  high  regard  as  to  almost  rever- 
ence him;  and  though  he  may  be  separated  from 
him,  yet  he  becomes  a  part  of  his  consciousness, 
so  that  the  master  knows  at  any  moment  the  con- 
dition of  the  pupil's  soul,  and  in  what  stage  of  con- 
sciousness he  is  functioning." 

"Such  phenomena  are  marvelous,"  remarked  An- 
thony, "but  I  have  of  late  seen  so  many  wonders,  that 
I  have  ceased  to  marvel." 

"Yes,"  rejoined  the  seer,  "when  one  lives  in  the 
higher  planes  of  Being,  gratitude  takes  the  place  of 
wonder — gratitude  for  the  Great  Being,  who  unveils 


298        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

the  glories  of  creation  and  the  supernal  beauties  of 
the  unseen  world!" 

"I  said,  I  had  ceased  to  marvel,  and  yet  I  marvel 
at  your  language;  for  it  sounds  almost  apostolic." 

"That  is  because  Truth  is  ever  conveyed  in  a 
beautiful  form.  The  higher  the  truth,  the  more  beau- 
tiful the  language  that  expresses  it,"  replied  the  seer. 

For  a  time  Anthony  was  silent,  while  Herminio 
remained  poised,  as  if  awaiting  the  next  question. 

"Tell  me,  "finally  asked  the  pupil,  "if  I  deserve  to 
know,  the  means  whereby  the  master  is  given  the 
knowledge,  as  to  his  pupil's  condition?" 

"Yes,  I  can  tell  you  that,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"It  is  conveyed  by  a  series  of  pictures,  that  appear 
in  the  astral.  In  the  first  stages  of  awakening  life, 
this  picture  world  is  not  revealed  to  us.  Instead  we 
see  single  objects  and  these  objects  are  symbols.  That 
the  symbols  are  related  to  objects  in  the  physical 
world,  you  have  already  learned  by  your  own  experi- 
ence. Later  the  time  comes  when  entire  pictures  are 
presented  to  the  vision  of  the  seer.  When  the  seer 
wishes  to  obtain  specific  knowledge  of  a  certain  kind, 
as  for  instance,  the  condition  of  consciousness  in 
which  his  pupil  is  functioning,  he  impinges  his 
thought  on  the  astral,  and  a  picture  of  his  pupil 
is  presented  to  his  vision.  If  the  neophyte  has  been 
worthy  of  the  trust  and  confidence  reposed  in  him, 
by  his  master  and  performed  his  work  willingly  and 
joyfully,  the  result  will  be  shown  in,  the  picture. 
For  example,  if  my  master  desired  to  know  if  I 
was  carrying  out  his  wishes,  regarding  the  young 
man  who  lives  in  the  small  Italian  town,  which  I 
mentioned  yesterday,  he  would  project  a  powerful 
desire  to  know  this,  and  immediately  a  picture  would 
form  out  of  the  astral  elements  which  he  would  per- 
ceive with  his  astral  vision.  The  picture  would 
possibly  show  this  hermitage.  This  would  be  what 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  299 

I  call  the  first  phase  of  the  vision.  My  master 
would  know  it  to  be  my  dwelling.  This  would  pre- 
pare him  for  the  second  phase  that  would  soon  follow. 
In  the  next  phase,  the  inside  of  the  hermitage  would 
be  revealed.  In  the  center  of  the  room,  we  would 
be  seen  standing  near  each  other  engaged  in  conver- 
sation. Then  I  would  walk  over  to  the  wall  and  take 
down  the  roll  of  parchment  from  behind  the  books 
and  be  seen  showing  it  to  you.  This  second  phase 
would  now  fade  away  to  be  followed  by  another,  in 
which  I  would  be  seen  leaving  the  hermitage  for  the 
village,  while  you  were  inside  the  hut,  leaning  over 
the  parchment  with  bowed  head,  hard  at  work  on 
the  translation.  Then  this  last  phase  of  the  picture 
would  fade  away,  and  my  master  would  know  I  was 
loyal  to  his  trust,  and  was  doing  the  work  assigned 
to  me." 

"Is  this  the  only  method,  whereby  the  seer  knows 
what  is  taking  place  at  a  distance?" 

"No,  there  are  other  means  aside  from  this;  but 
of  that  I  can  not  speak  at  present.  However,  this 
is  the  first  method  that  the  beginner  in  the  occult  life 
is  given,  to  enable  him  to  obtain  specific  knowledge, 
o>n  any  one  point  on  which  he  might  want  infor- 
mation." 

"A  most  wonderful  power,"  remarked  Anthony, 
"since  it  follows  the  first  stages  of  astral  experience, 
it  must  occur  that  this  phenomena  takes  place  on  the 
higher  planes  of  the  astral." 

"Indeed  it  does,"  replied  the  seer,  "and  it  makes 
me  happy  to  know  that  you  have  risen  to  such  a 
height  of  consciousness,  as  to  be  able  to  state  such 
sublime  truth." 

"Then  I  will  ask  you,  how  you  would  designate 
in  language,  those  higher  sub-planes  of  the  astral?" 

"To  begin  with,"  replied  Herminio,  "There  are 
seven  divisions  of  the  astral,  each  one  of  which  is 
a  sub-division;  the  phenomena  of  each  division  as 
it  rises  in  the  scale,  being  a  stage  higher  than  the 


300        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

one  preceding  it.  Some  occultists  number  these 
planes  and  speak  of  the  sixth  and  seventh  sub- 
divisions, but  I  prefer  to  call  the  lower  planes  of 
the  astral,  the  plane  of  symbols,  because  everything 
seen  there  is  a  symbol,  which  the  seer  must  in  time 
learn  the  meaning  of,  through  the  relationship  they 
bear  to  objects  in  the  physical  world.  The  higher 
sub-planes  of  the  astral,  I  call,  The  Picture  World, 
because  it  is  here  that  a  world  of  pictures  is  thrown 
open  to  the  astral  vision  of  the  seer." 

Again  Anthony  was  silent.  What  a  wonderful  life 
was  opening  before  him,  according  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  Herminio!  He  could  scarce  refrain  from  re- 
ferring to  the  spectacle  of  the  astral  players,  of  a 
few  nights  previous,  but  he  knew  he  must  wait.  So 
the  remaining  days  of  that  week  were  spent  on 
the  translation.  When  it  was  finished,  the  week 
had  passed  and  Herminio's  work  at  the  village  was 
also  completed.  At  last  the  time  had  come  when 
reference  could  be  made  to  that  wonderful  drama, 
that  had  been  enacted  under  the  oak  tree  for  his 
benefit  alone. 

"Good  master,"  said  Anthony,  as  they  seated 
themselves  in  the  growing  dusk,  in  the  yard  of  the 
hermitage,  at  last  the  time  has  come  when  I  can 
refer  to  the  spectacle  that  took  place  one  week  ago 
tonight — a  spectacle  of  such  wondrous  beauty  and 
mystery,  that  I  carry  the  memory  of  it  enshrined  in 
my  heart." 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  seer,  in  a  reverential  tone. 
"It  is  not  given  to  everyone  to  witness  this  drasna 
of  the  super-sensuous  world.  But  you  were  on  ac- 
count of  the  great  purity  of  your  life,  accorded  this 
favor." 

"Then  this  drama  is  enacted  only  on  very  rare 
occasions?"  asked  Anthony. 

"Once  in  every  seven  years,"  replied  the  sage, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  301 

"the  band  of  players,  led  by  Alexis,  the  Greek  poet, 
produce  this  play  for  the  benefit  of  awakened  souls. 
This  puts  forth  the  beauty  and  imagery  of  the  astral 
world,  in  such  a  marvelous  setting,  that  the  beholder 
cherishes  the  memory  of  the  event  ever  after  in  his 
consciousness." 

"Tell  me  good  master,  do  you  know  any  of  the 
players  personally?" 

"Only  one,  and  that  is  Antinous,  your  astral 
conductor.  He  visited  this  part  of  Switzerland 
about  ten  years  ago,  and  paid  me  a  personal  visit. 
At  that  time  we  knew  of  your  condition  and  spirit- 
ual awakening,  through  the  images  you  cast  into  the 
picture  world.  In  fact  you  were  the  chief  topic  of 
our  conversation  at  that  time;  and  I  remember  well 
how  Antinous  exulted  in  the  thought  that  he  was 
soon  to  conduct  you  on  the  astral  plane." 

"And  Umenes,  the  anchorite,  and  Simonides,  the 
astronomer,  and  Isolde  the  gentle  shepherdess,  do 
you  know  anything  of  them?" 

"I  have  never  seen  them  in  the  flesh,"  replied  the 
seer,  "but  they  have  made  me  occasional  visits  in 
astral  body,  and  I  have  likewise  paid  them  visits  in 
the  same  manner." 

"Then  you  have  the  power  of  projecting  your 
astral  body?" 

"Certainly,  that  power  is  mine,  and  in  a  few 
years  it  will  be  accorded  you,"  answered  the  seer.  . 

"But  have  I  not  already  been  on  the  astral  plane?" 
asked  Anthony. 

"Yes,  many  times,  but  on  each  occasion,  you  were 
taken  out  during  the  time  your  physical  body  was 
in  sleep,  so  while  you  functioned  there  consciously, 
and  brought  back  the  memory  of  what  you  saw 
there,  yet  you  did  not  project  your  astral  vehicle 
by  your  own  will,  but  you  were  taken  there  by  the 
will  of  another.  However,  the  time  will  come  when 


302        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

you  will  be  able  to  project  your  astral,  by  the  power 
of  your  own  will." 

"Then  the  astral  players  we  saw  a  week  ago  to- 
night, all  have  this  power?" 

"Undoubtedly,"  replied  Herminio,  "that  is  one 
of  the  privileges  accorded  all  illuminated  souls. 
They  are  no  respecters  of  distance,  for  distance  of- 
fers no  barrier  to  them.  By  projecting  their  astrals, 
they  visit  each  other  at  stated  times.  Even  when 
functioning  in  the  flesh,  they  know  each  other's  most 
secret  thoughts,  for  they  are  one  in  consciousness." 

"What  of  Cleo,  the  woman  robed  in  scarlet  and 
flashing  jewels?  Is  she  a  real  entity?" 

No,  my  son;  she  was  only  a  powerful  thought 
form,  generated  by  the  combined  thought,  of  the 
whole  company  of  players.  She  personified  Evil,  and 
as  Evil  is  relative  and  not  absolute,  her  existence  is 
relative  only.  She  was  in  very  truth  a  phantom,  but 
it  is  this  phantom  that  men  pursue  in  the  physical 
world,  when  they  are  guided  and  dominated  by  their 
lower  nature,  following  their  passions  on  the  one 
hand  and  the  adulation  and  praise  of  the  Voice  of  the 
World,  on  the  other." 

"I  know  so  well  the  illusions  of  the  world,  in  which 
I  suffered  the  martyrdom  of  crucifixion,  that  I  would 
fain  speak  of  other  things.  Tell  me,  good  master,  of 
Simon  ides  the  astronomer." 

"Simonides,"  replied  Herminio,  "now  lives  in 
retirement  in  Egypt.  At  one  time  he  was  connected 
with  the  greatest  observatory  in  Europe.  It  was  dur- 
ing that  period  of  his  life,  that  he  lost  his  only  son, 
which  was  the  event  that  brought  him  into  the  high- 
er consciousness." 

"I  can  understand  his  case,"  said  Anthony.  "He 
tried  to  comprehend  the  mysteries  of  the  universe, 
by  the  poor  vessel  of  human  reason  and  of  course  he 
failed." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  303 

"Yes,"  rejoined  the  seer.  "Intellect  cannot  grasp 
the  meaning  of  life,  or  the  wherefore  of  things;  so  it 
is  necessary  that  Simonides  should  pass  through  the 
fiery  ordeal,  'ere  knowledge  was  given  him." 

"And  Umenes,  his  is  an  exalted  soul,  tell  me  of 
him,  gracious  master?" 

"My  son,  Umenes  is  a  soul  virtuous  and  great. 
Illuminated  by  sanctity  and  knowledge,  he  represents 
the  fruit  of  the  Pure  in  Heart.  In  his  home  in  Crete, 
he  lives  in  seclusion,  much  after  my  manner  of  life 
here  in  Switzerland.  He  has  no  pupils.  On  one  occa- 
sion, however,  he  gave  refuge  to  the  young  Antinous, 
according  to  the  statement  of  Isolde." 

"Ah,  Isolde!  How  I  remember  her  sweet  charac- 
ter," sighed  Anthony.  In  the  recital  of  her  episode, 
which  was  remarkable  for  its  simplicity  and  beauty, 
she  gave  expression  to  truth,  with  such  tenderness 
and  pathos,  that  at  times  I  could  not  repress  my 
tears." 

"I  noticed  that  you  were  much  affected  by  her 
recital,"  continued  the  seer,  especially  that  part 
wherein  she  described  the  character  of  the  men  of 
sanctity  with  whom  the  outcast  Leo  had  taken  ref- 
uge, and  referred  to  them  as  men  having  strange 
powers  and  capacities,  to  read  events  in  the  future: 

"Men  who  abjured  the  world  and  sought  with  zeal, 
The  Tree  of  Life  Eternal,  and  were  given 
Knowledge  and  lore,  and  gifts  of  prophecy." 

"And  this  brings  us,"  continued  the  seer,  "to  the 
subject  of  prophecy.  In  this  recital  of  Isolde,  Alce- 
phas,  the  poet-painter,  prophesied  that  the  coast  on 
which  the  family  of  Leo  dwelt,  would  in  seven  days 
sink  beneath  the  sea.  Now  the  knowledge  of  this 
future  event,  was  given  to  Alcephas  through  the  Pic- 
ture World.  To  his  astral  vision,  there  was  revealed 
a  picture  of  the  sinking  of  this  line  of  coast,  and  the 
time  it  was  to  occur  was  likewise  made  known  to  him. 


304         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

He  was  privileged  for  the  sake  of  Leo,  to  warn  the 
family  of  Stephen  Bond.  Hence  the  dream  of  Lenora, 
so  beautifully  described  in  the  episode.  You  will  re- 
member that  Leo  was  cautioned  by  Alcephas  the  eve- 
ning before  the  dream  occurred,  that  he  must  go 
over  in  memory,  the  events  of  his  childhood;  but 
that  in  all  his  riot  of  fancy,  he  was  to  hold  before  his 
mental  vision,  the  beloved  image  of  his  sister  Lenora. 
In  following  this  advice  of  his  master,  Leo  made 
by  these  thought  processes,  a  series  of  images  in  the 
Picture  World,  corresponding  to  the  scenes  in  the 
days  of  happy  childhood,  when  he  played  with  his  sis- 
ter on  the  beach.  In  the  earlier  stages  of  her  dream, 
Lenora  saw  these  pictured  images  and  lived  over 
again  that  happy  period.  In  the  later  stages  of  her 
supposed  dream,  she  did  not  dream  at  all,  but  she 
met  her  brother  Leo  on  the  astral,  for  she  avers  that 
he  was  'clothed  in  shining  white/  You  will  remember 
your  own  case  the  exaltation  of  consciousness  you 
felt  when  you  met  Antinous,  your  astral  conductor. 
He,  too,  was  clothed  in  shining  white,  or  appeared  as 
a  white  marble  statue.  So  Lenora's  experience  was 
something  like  your  own.  In  the  words  of  Antinous, 
she  knew  on  awakening : 

'That  this  experience  is  no  common  dream.' 

It  was  on  that  account  that  she  reported  the  dream 
to  her  parents  and  told  them  it  had  a  significance 
they  could  not  ignore.  From  the  earnestness  of  her 
appeal,  they  could  do  nothing  but  obey  the  voice  of 
the  prophecy.  Thus  were  they  saved  from  destruc- 
tion and  reunited  to  their  son,  where  they  dwelt  in 
peace  and  happy  security." 

"And  it  is  in  this  manner,"  continued  Herminio, 
"that  the  occulists  and  the  mystics  are  warned  of  any 
approaching  danger  that  threatens  them  in  the  phy- 
sical. In  the  picture  world,  images  of  future  events 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  305 

that  concern  them  personally,  are  accurately  fore- 
casted and  presented  to  their  astral  vision.  All  the 
circumstances  that  surround  the  events  are  clearly 
outlined.  At  first  these  pictures  have  intimate  con- 
nection, only  with  events  that  are  to  happen  in  the 
life  of  the  seer,  so  that  when  the  event  finally  takes 
place,  the  illuminated  soul  knows  that  it  has  been 
protected  from  physical  danger,  by  occult  processes, 
that  are  utterly  beyond  the  scope  and  power  of  the 
physical  man.  Hence  he  learns  to  trust  these  unseen 
forces  that  guard  his  life  and  destiny.  At  a  later  pe- 
riod, the  images  in  the  Picture  World,  refer  to  world 
events,  in  which  the  seer  will  have  no  personal  con- 
nection. But  he  knows  from  the  knowledge  that  is 
now  his,  that  these  prophecies — for  so  he  now  re- 
gards them — will  surely  come  to  pass.  Having  reach- 
ed the  heights  of  Cosmic  consciousness,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  physical  world  that  can  affect  his 
peace  and  equanimity." 

"And  he  is  likewise  shielded  from  all  physical 
danger?"  interposed  Anthony. 

"Always,"  replied  Herminio.  "That  is  one  of  the 
conditions  of  the  life  when  it  reaches  the  higher 
planes  of  consciousness.  While  it  functions  in  a 
physical  body,  which  St.  Paul  has  so  aptly  described 
as  a  body  of  death,  yet  its  activities  are  so  far  above 
it  that  the  vibrations  from  the  physical  world,  no 
longer  affect  its  existence.  Having  risen  to  those 
blessed  heights  of  love  and  peace,  it  dwells  in  an 
ecstatic  state  of  happiness  and  security,  unknown  to 
the  earlier  stages  of  its  life  in  the  lower  world-" 

"Have  not  the  poets  of  all  lands  and  times,  in 
a  measure,  grasped  this  great  truth  and  given  it  ex- 
pression? Is  not  the  true  poet  an  embryo  prophet, 
and  are  not  his  utterances  to  be  regarded  in  the  light 
and  nature  of  prophecy?" 

"Yes,  my  son,  you  are  quite  right,"  replied  the  old 
man.  "The  true  poet  has  glimpses  of  The  Reality 


306         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

that  lies  behind  the  veil.  In  his  higher  flights  of 
fancy,  he  soars  above  the  World  of  Illusion  and 
bathes  in  the  Divine  Elixer,  bringing  down  to  a  sor- 
did world,  images  of  great  truth  and  beauty.  Thus 
a  great  world  poet,  expresses  yearnings  and  longings, 
which  are  already  the  sacred  possessions  of  the  seer. 
He  would  live  on  those  exalted  heights,  where  the 
seer  now  dwells.  He  longs  to  be  above  the  plane  of 
sorrow  and  trial  and  human  misery.  In  one  of  his 
sonnets  Tennyson  sings: 

"Though  Night  hath  climbed  her  peak  of  highest  noon 
And  bitter  blasts  the  screaming  autumn  whirl, 
All  night  through  arches  of  the  bridg'ed  pearl 
And  portals  of  pure  silver  walks  the  moon. 
Walk  on  my  soul  nor  crouch  to  agony, 
Turn  cloud  to  light  and  bitterness  to  joy, 
And  dross  to  gold  with  glorious  alchemy 
Basing  thy  throne  above  the  world's  annoy; 
Reign  Thou  above  the  storms  of  sorrow  and  ruth 
That  roar  beneath.    Unshaken  peace  hath  won  thee, 
So  shalt  thou  pierce  the  woven  glooms  of  Truth ; 
So  shall  the  blessing  of  the  meek  be  on  thee; 
So  in  thine  hour  of  dawn,  the  body's  youth 
An  honorable  eld  shall  come  upon  thee." 

"As  the  moon  sails  above  the  storms  of  the  world, 
and  changes  the  leaden  clouds  to  gold,  by  its  wond- 
rous alchemy,  so  the  poet  would  have  his  soul  move 
on  above  the  storms  of  human  passion,  and  at  the 
same  time  change  the  dross  in  the  heart  of  man  to 
finest  gold!  This  quality  of  soul,  the  seer  already 
cherishes  as  his  possession.  It  is  his  heritage  from 
a  well  ordered  past." 

"Then  the  poet  longs  and  aspires  after  that  which 
the  seer  already  possesses?"  asked  Anthony. 

"Yes,  my  son,  and  in  time  he  will  reach  to  seer- 
ship." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  307 

"Then  the  astral  players  are  all  seers?"  inquired 
Anthony. 

"Without  question,  they  are  seers  and  prophets," 
replied  the  sage.  "While  the  poet  longs  to  remain  on 
their  high  level  of  consciousness,  he  is  such  a  pris- 
oner in  the  physical  body,  that  he  obtains  only  mo- 
mentary glimpses  of  reality;  hence  the  longings  and 
yearnings  to  which  he  gives  expression.  Now  the 
players  who  visited  us  a  week  ago  tonight,in  their 
astral  forms,  function  so  much  of  their  time  on  the 
higher  levels,  that  it  is  difficult  for  them  to  come 
down  to  earth,  and  converse  on  subjects  of  ordinary 
interest.  Hence  their  pompous  speech  which  was  in 
keeping  with  their  character.  You  will  remember 
it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  Alexis  and  Antinous 
could  persuade  them  to  drop  their  heavy  accents,  and 
allow  Isolde  to  proceed  with  her  simple  yet  beautiful 
episode.  Even  then,  the  subject  matter  of  the  epi- 
sode must  have  a  bearing  on  the  great  truths  set 
forth  in  the  mystery  play." 

"And  while  they  live  in  different  parts  of  the 
world,  yet  they  are  in  constant  communication  with 
each  other?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Herminio,  "by  the  transference 
of  thought  on  the  Astral  currents,  and  images  in  the 
Picture  World,  they  know  the  spiritual  and  physical 
conditions  that  surround  their  compeers  at  any  mo- 
ment. It  is  their  business  to  keep  watch  over  the 
souls  that  are  coming  into  Life.  They  are  made 
aware  of  these  awakenings,  by  what  is  presented  to 
their  astral  vision  in  the  Picture  World.  Then  they 
send  thoughts  of  love,  sympathy,  faith,  confidence 
and  hope.  These  thoughts  impinged  on  the  astral  at 
certain  intervals,  result  in  symbols  which  appear  as 
visions  before  the  neophyte.  Soon  he  learns  to  con- 
nect these  symbols  of  the  astral,  with  objects  and 
events  on  the  physical  plane.  Thus,  what  symbols 


308        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 


appear  in  the  astral,  are  as  forerunners  of  events 
that  are  to  take  place  in  the  physical.  Later  these 
events  actually  take  place;  and  the  neophyte  knows 
beyond  any  doubt,  that  occult  processes  are  guiding 
his  life  and  destiny." 

"At  first  the  embryo  occultist  keeps  his  marvel- 
ous experiences  locked  in  his  own  heart.  They  are 
too  sacred  to  be  revealed.  In  doing  this,  he  follows 
a  law  of  the  higher  planes,  which  is  as  strict  as  the 
law  of  gravitation  in  the  physical  world.  At  a  later 
period  he  meets  his  teacher.  It  is  by  no  chance  or 
accident  that  this  meeting  occurs.  All  has  been  ar- 
ranged in  accordance  with  immutable  law.  Then  he 
learns  from  the  lips  of  his  teacher,  the  great  truths 
of  Life  and  the  mysteries  of  Being.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  experience,  he  perceives  his  almost  limit- 
less capacities  and  possibilities.  Before  his  master 
he  stands  as  a  little  child,  trustful  and  obedient.  His 
soul  has  awakened  into  Life.  He  has  been  born  anew. 
The  physical  world  has  lost  its  allurements  and  there- 
fore its  tyrrany  over  him.  He  has  learned  that  spir- 
itual consciousness  is  real  life.  As  he  grows  in  vir- 
tue and  purity  of  heart,  new  glories  are  revealed  to 
his  higher  vision.  At  last  the  veil  is  still  further 
lifted,  and  instead  of  symbols,  complete  pictures  of 
great  beauty  and  prophecy  are  made  to  appear  to  his 
eye  of  Soul.  He  is  now  on  the  Path,  climbing  the 
great  heights  that  the  seers  and  prophets  of  Old  have 
ascended  before  him.  What  glories  of  God  are  to  be 
further  revealed  in  the  infinite  stretches  of  time,  only 
the  archangels  and  seraphs  know.  But  come,  the 
night  is  late.  We  must  take  our  much  needed  rest." 

Then  rising  from  their  seats,  the  two  men  stepped 
from  the  inclosure  into  the  hermitage. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Shadow  of  the  Astral 

Not  in  vain  the  distance  beacons, 
Forward,  forward  let  us  range; 
Let  the  great  world  spin  forever 
Down  the  ringing  grooves  of  change. 

— Locksley  Hall. 

When  Anthony  and  Herminio  stepped  out  of  the 
hut  on  the  following  evening  and  took  their  seats  in 
the  inclosure,  the  dusk  was  deepening  into  night. 
The  faint  flush  of  sunset  had  now  changed  to  som- 
bre shadow.  Far  away  in  the  Northwest,  the  great 
Cross  in  Cygnus,  gleamed  in  upright  position,  re- 
splendent with  flaming  jewels.  Regarding  for  a  mo- 
ment the  beauties  of  the  star  lit  expanse,  Anthony 
turned  to  Herminio,  and  laying  his  hand  gently  on 
his  shoulder,  exclaimed : 

"Good  master,  I  do  not  like  to  question  you. 
Rather  would  I  listen  to  the  words  of  wisdom  that 
fall  from  your  lips.  But  I  would  fain  know  why  the 
world  must  endure  the  sorrows  and  the  miseries  and 
the  heartaches  that  are  everywhere  so  evident? 
Why  is  it  that  only  a  few  are  admitted  into  Life, 
while  countless  millions  of  souls  must  live  in  sorrow, 
poverty  and  darkness?" 

"My  son,  I  am  glad  you  have  asked  me  this  ques- 
tion," replied  the  seer.  "In  our  previous  discussions 
we  have  talked  of  super-sensuous  phenomena  only. 
But  the  time  has  come  when  you  must  know  why  the 
world  groans  in  travail,  why  the  beauties  of  the  great 


310        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

universe  of  God  are  unknown  to  the  teeming  millions, 
and  lastly,  why  so  many  lay  down  the  burden  of  life 
in  the  sheer  agony  of  despair." 

"Now  man  is  a  consciousness  entombed  in  matter. 
In  his  heart  is  located  a  tiny  flame  of  spirit,  whose 
light  if  it  be  allowed  to  shine,  would  bring  the  man 
ultimately  to  Godhood.  But  the  Evil  Forces,  which 
are  nothing  more  than  the  thought  vibrations  of  the 
mass  of  mankind,  are  in  the  aggregate  of  a  character 
that  are  so  purely  physical,  that  the  average  man, 
entombed  in  his  prison  of  flesh,  readily  responds. 
And  the  more  he  responds,  the  more  the  tiny  flame 
of  spirit  is  enshrouded  in  the  thick  veils  of  matter, 
until  the  man  finally  doubts  the  existence  of  spirit 
altogether  and  believes  and  trusts  in  nothing  but  the 
material  world  of  illusion.  For  such  an  one,  the 
higher  planes  of  life  are  forever  sealed  and  the  beau- 
tiful phenomena  which  you  have  witnessed  through 
the  higher  vision  is  absolutely  unknown. 

"Tonight  we  sit  under  an  October  sky  and  through 
the  glimmer  of  the  star  depths,  we  behold  the  splen- 
dor of  the  physical  universe.  Yet  we  know  that  all 
these  countless  orbs,  that  deck  the  firmament — that 
all  the  distant  galaxies  that  glitter  in  the  deeps  of 
space,  form  only  the  first  and  lowest  department  of 
Nature — the  physical  plane.  That  above  and  beyond, 
though  included  within  the  physical  universe,  there 
is  another  plane,  called  the  astral,  in  which  you  are 
at  present  functioning. 

"Now  the  planes  of  Nature  are  just  as  numberless 
as  are  the  physical  stars  of  space.  There  are  there- 
fore, universes  within  universes,  of  which  the  crude 
mind  of  ordinary  man  has  absolutely  no  conception. 
How  well  the  occultist  and  the  mystic  understand 
the  great  truth  to  which  The  Christ  gave  utterance : 
'That  in  His  Father's  house  were  many  mansions.' 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  311 

"Unaware  of  the  great  truths  that  underlie  hu- 
man life,  the  mass  of  the  people  of  the  world  are  com- 
pletely buried  in  the  physical.  Countless  millions 
spend  their  whole  lives  in  exhausting  labor,  to  obtain 
sufficient  food  to  nourish  their  physical  bodies.  Oth- 
ers, who  are  surfeited  with  the  wealth  of  the  phys- 
ical world,  spend  their  years  in  idleness  and  sin. 
Revelling  in  the  lust  of  the  flesh  and  the  pride  of 
life,  the  tiny  flame  of  spirit  is  so  heavily  veiled  in 
matter,  that  its  light  cannot  be  seen.  In  this  condi- 
tion, men  doubt  the  very  existence  of  spirit,  and  en- 
tomb themselves  deeper  and  deeper  in  matter.  Phys- 
ical life  is  explained  by  physical  concepts  only.  Pride 
joins  hands  with  deception  and  the  standards  of  hell 
are  raised  on  the  ramparts  of  heaven.  The  sun  of 
Truth  is  eclipsed  by  the  malice  in  the  heart  of  man, 
so  that  the  world  in  this  present  age  remains  in  as- 
tral shadow." 

"Modern  society  being  an  expression  of  the  collec- 
tive consciousness  of  the  race,  it  is  plain  that  it  must 
evolve  to  higher  conditions  before  humanity  becomes 
free.  Taken  for  granted  that  the  present  condition 
of  society  is  to  last  forever,  we  can  easily  see  why 
the  world  remains  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Astral,  and 
groans  in  travail  and  sodden  misery. 

"But  this  condition  is  not  always  to  last,  for  a 
new  cycle  is  dawning.  The  time  will  come  when  a 
great  number  of  the  human  race  will  suffer  cruci- 
fixion on  the  Cross  of  Matter.  Rising  from  their  ex- 
perience to  a  higher  plane  of  consciousness,  there  will 
be  revealed  to  their  awakened  vision,  the  beauties 
of  the  astral  world.  Then  the  thought  images  pro- 
jected into  the  astral  will  be  of  such  a  character  as  to 
influence  the  greater  number  of  humanity  to  a  nobler 
and  higher  ideal  of  Life. 

"At  the  beginning  of  the  next  century,  this  pro- 
cess of  evolution  will  have  commenced  in  all  the 
enlightened  races  of  this  globe.  Each  century  will 


312        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

see  more  and  more  souls  coming  into  Life.  Finally, 
in  the  far  away  future,  every  soul  that  inhabits  this 
earth,  will  have  attained  to  astral  vision.  It  is  im- 
possible to  describe  the  happy  activity  of  that  glori- 
fied humanity,  in  this  golden  age  of  the  future.,  Hav- 
ing risen  above  the  plane  of  the  intellect,  pride,  ava- 
rice and  selfishness  will  have  no  place  in  the  heart  of 
man.  The  social  conditions  will  have  undergone  such 
change  as  will  be  in  keeping  with  the  advanced  con- 
sciousness of  the  Race.  Astral  dramas  of  great 
beauty  and  mystery,  produced  by  astral  players,  for 
the  edification  of  souls  that  have  awakened  into  Life, 
will  be  of  common  occurrence.  In  fact  this  method  for 
the  presentation  of  spiritual  Truth  will  be  in  vogue 
throughout  the  whole  earth.  From  the  brief  descrip- 
tion of  that  coming  age,  which  is  to  be  the  glorious 
heritage  of  the  souls  in  this  epoch  of  the  future,  I 
must  now  draw  the  veil.  In  this  outline  enough  has 
been  given  to  bring  you  to  a  realization  of  the  happy 
condition  that  will  result  when  the  world,  fully  aware 
of  higher  planes  of  existence,  is  guided  through 
Faith  by  promptings  from  within,  and  finally  passes 
out  from  the  shadow  of  the  astral. 

"But  at  present  the  reverse  is  the  case.  Envel- 
oped in  astral  tenebraes — shut  out  from  the  light  of 
the  spirit  and  the  higher  consciousness — the  world 
indeed  groans  in  travail.  As  a  pioneer  of  the  future, 
it  is  your  bounden  duty  to  charge  the  astral  currents 
with  the  noblest  thought  forms  which  your  higher 
consciousness  is  capable  of  projecting.  These 
thought  forms,  contacting  the  vibrations  of  souls 
that  are  coming  into  Life,  give  them  uplift  and  en- 
couragement. In  time,  other  souls  will  aid  in  this 
work  of  redeeming  man  from  the  illusions  of  the 
purely  physical  world.  For  centuries,  this  process 
will  go  on.  Finally,  humanity  will  stand  erect  and 
free — freed  alone  by  that  all-powerful  thought  which 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  313 

finds  its  origin  and  its  center  on  the  inner  planes  of 
invisible  Being. 

"Now  there  is  a  time  when  each  inhabited  globe 
in  the  Cosmos  is  enveloped  in  astral  shadow.  That 
time  for  the  earth  is  now.  Humanity  having  not 
yet  risen  above  the  plane  of  intellect,  is  so  heavily 
veiled  in  matter,  that  it  cannot  pierce  the  veil  of  illu- 
sion; hence  it  knows  nothing  of  the  mysteries  of  Life 
or  the  secrets  of  Nature.  Each  man  imagines  that 
he  is  a  law  unto  himself — that  he  is  better  than  his 
brother — hence  the  resulting  chaos  we  see  in  so- 
called  civilized  society ;  for  society  is  not  yet  civilized. 
In  the  present  age  we  hear  much  of  the  rights  of  na- 
tions and  of  individuals.  It  is  only  in  the  nether 
world  that  the  notion  of  rights  could  be  put  forward 
and  claimed  as  a  principle.  On  the  higher  planes  of 
existence,  the  evolving  soul  never  thinks  of  its  rights. 
It  has  none.  It  has  only  duties — to  help  struggling 
humanity  to  escape  from  the  tenebraes  of  matter — 
this  is  its  only  joy.  This  is  its  only  reward.  It  asks 
no  other.  Having  made  the  Unity  with  the  Self — 
with  the  Universal  Mind — it  becomes  a  channel  of 
Divine  Grace,  giving  the  blessings  it  receives  from 
the  Author  of  Life,  freely  and  abundantly  to  all  men. 

"There  is  a  saying  in  the  physical  world  to  the 
effect  that  we  cannot  know  a  thing  until  we  have  ex- 
perienced it.  This  declaration  holds  true  in  the 
higher  planes  as  well  as  on  the  lower.  There  was  a 
time  in  your  own  life  when  you  functioned  only  in  the 
physical.  You  felt  the  sense  of  separateness  from 
other  human  beings.  You  were  an  individual  unit. 
The  main  springs  of  your  life  and  action,  was  indi- 
vidual effort  for  your  individual  self — that  at  least 
was  the  light  in  which  you  saw  your  actions  at  that 
time.  You  functioned  in  your  personality.  The 
physical  man  labored  for  a  worldly  reward.  The 
approbation  of  your  pupils — the  respect  in  which  you 


314        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

were  held  by  your  superiors — honors  and  advance- 
ment in  the  world — physical  love — the  love  of  wife 
and  child — ties  of  kinship  and  blood,  the  hallowed 
memory  and  esteem  of  friends,  these  formed  the  nar- 
row circle  that  bound  the  activities  of  your  life.  The 
personality  was  in  the  ascendent.  It  occupied  the 
first  place.  There  was  no  other  thought  but  of  the 
lower  self.  But  suddenly,  almost  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  all  this  was  changed.  The  world  in  which 
you  functioned  disappeared  from  you.  The  destruc- 
tion of  Messina  buried  all  your  hopes.  The  love  of 
wife  and  child  was  forever  gone,  only  their  memory 
remained.  There  was  no  one  in  the  whole  earth  with 
whom  you  bore  the  chain  of  human  ties.  In  such  a 
condition  many  persons,  when  reduced  to  abject  pov- 
erty, end  their  lives  by  their  own  hands.  This  is  be- 
cause their  consciousness  being  so  wholly  absorbed 
in  the  world  of  matter,  knows  no  life  or  phenomena 
above  the  sense  world.  To  the  souls  of  such  persons, 
the  higher  planes  are  sealed.  The  beautiful  symbols 
of  the  first  sub-planes  of  the  astral  and  the  images 
of  the  Picture  World  are  unknown  to  them.  Envel- 
oped in  astral  shadow,  they  cannot  pierce  'The  Woven 
Glooms  of  Truth.'  Imagining  the  physical  world  to 
be  the  one  Reality,  all  hope  is  gone  when  that  world 
and  its  illusions  disappears.  In  your  case  the  con- 
ditions were  different.  For  some  years  prior  to  the 
event  that  changed  the  current  of  your  life,  you  had 
longed  for  knowledge.  Truth  at  any  price  was  your 
constant  prayer.  Then  came  the  cataclysm.  The 
forces  that  controlled  your  life,  were  ready  to  give 
you  knowledge.  From  you  they  took  away  every- 
thing you  held  dear  in  the  physical.,  The  personal- 
ity in  which  you  had  alone  functioned,  suffered  a 
severe  trial.  In  occultism  this  is  called  the  trial  by 
fire.  The  physical  world  having  disappeared,  there 
is  nothing  to  which  the  personality  can  attach  itself. 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  315 

It  must,  therefore,  suffer  extinction.  Crucified  on 
the  Cross  of  Matter,  the  personality  writhes  in  the 
throes  of  an  agonizing  death.  No  language  can  de- 
scribe the  extent  or  the  degree  of  the  torture  that  the 
personality  endures  on  its  way  to  final  extinction. 
But  it  must  die,  for  it  has  nothing  on  which  to  live. 
If  it  thirsts,  it  is  given  gall  instead  of  water.  If  it 
looks  for  love,  it  finds  hate.  If  it  expects  sympathy, 
it  meets  scorn,  thus  signifying  that  its  life  is  still 
functioning  in  the  world  of  illusions.  That  it  is  still 
within  the  domain  of  the  law  of  the  pair  of  opposi- 
tites,  and  must  suffer  and  die  there  accordingly." 

"At  last  the  personality,  unable  to  endure  the  tor- 
ture any  longer,  finally  dies  and  is  laid  in  the  tomb. 
Then  follows  apparently  a  short  period  of  suspension. 
Soon  after  a  most  marvellous  thing  occurs.  There  is 
a  resurrection.  The  individuality  of  the  man  has 
awakened.  From  the  death  of  the  personality,  is  the 
individuality  born.  It  rolls  away  the  stone  from  the 
sepulchre.  The  physical  world  which  entombed  the 
personality,  cannot  imprison  the  individual  man.  He 
is  above  the  limitations  of  such  a  prison*  He  rises 
triumphant  from  the  tomb  of  Matter.  Clothed  in  a 
finer  body,  the  individuality  is  able  to  receive  vibra- 
tions from  a  plane  of  Being,  above  and  beyond  the 
physical.  Having  risen  above  the  plane  of  illusion, 
where  the  personality  was  under  the  dominion  of  the 
intellect,  the  individuality  is  now  led  by  the  intuition. 
Intellect,  which  gave  the  man  worldly  knowledge,  is 
superseded  by  intuition,  which  brings  heavenly  wis- 
dom. The  Ego  of  the  man  begins  to  express  itself. 
A  feeble  light  begins  to  illume,  the  spaceless  cham- 
bers of  the  soul.  The  long  darkness  of  the  physical 
night  is  being  broken  by  the  advent  of  a  most  marvel- 
lous day.  It  is  the  morning  of  the  resurrection. 
Having  overcome  the  limitations  of  a  material  world, 
the  soul  }s  about  to  be  given  to  eat  of  the  'Tree  of 


316         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

Life."  A  glorious  sun  has  risen  on  the  horizon.  In 
its  magical  light,  the  soul  beholds  that  plane  of  Being 
that  supersedes  the  physical." 

"Symbols  glowing  with  thought  and  color,  are  pro- 
jected along  the  astral  currents  and  presented  to 
its  astral  vision.  At  last  the  soul  perceives  the  won- 
derful meaning  that  underlies  that  simple  phrase: 
"The  Tree  of  Life."  A  mystical  relationship  exists 
between  creature  and  Creator,  of  which  the  awaken- 
ed soul  had  never  before  dreamed.  In  time  it  learns 
that  the  beautiful  symbols  of  the  first  sub-planes  of 
the  astral,  are  the  thought  forms  of  that  hierarchy 
of  Beings,  who,  while  functioning  in  the  flesh,  are  liv- 
ing in  such  exalted  states  of  consciousness  that  they 
have  the  God-like  faculty  of  transferring  instruction 
by  such  occult  means,  and  at  the  same  time  introduce 
the  neophyte  into  the  secrets  of  Creation.  It  is  at 
this  stage  of  unfoldment,  that  the  awakened  con- 
sciousness swears  allegiance  to  the  Higher  Self  and 
thereby  disentangles  itself  from  the  physical — the 
world  of  illusions.  Never  more  will  it  be  bound  on  the 
wheel  of  necessity,  since  it  has  passed  that  cycle  of 
its  Being." 

"Through  the  illumination  which  the  soul  receives 
from  the  higher  planes  of  consciousness,  it  knows 
that  a  time  will  come  in  the  history  of  every  soul, 
when  it  must  suffer  crucifixion  on  the  Cross  of  Mat- 
ter. Therefore,  the  ordeal  which  it  endures  is  com- 
mon to  all  the  rest.  There  is  no  exception.,  The 
crucifixion  is  a  fact  in  nature.  Only  by  this  means, 
can  the  personality  be  made  to  die  to  the  world  of 
illusions.  Only  by  this  means,  could  the  soul  ever  be 
made  aware  of  the  great  truth,  that  plane  after  plane 
of  Being  supersedes  the  physical.  That  as  the  soul 
reaches  the  ascending  stages  of  consciousness,  it  is 
given  finer  vehicles  in  which  to  express  its  corre- 
sponding activities.  Finally  it  learns  that  its  life 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  317 

on  the  astral,  is  guided  by  intelligences  that  make 
their  thoughts  manifest  by  a  symbol  and  color 
language.  Thus  they  conduct  the  awakened  soul  on 
its  first  perilous  steps  in  the  world  of  spirit.  By  the 
ascending  stages  of  consciousness,  the  Picture  World, 
in  all  its  beautiful  phenomena,  now  unfolds  itself  to 
the  God-like  vision  of  the  seer.  Thus  the  soul  per- 
ceives that  there  are  universes  within  universes,  and 
that  the  planes  of  Being  are  as  infinite  in  number, 
as  the  sands  of  the  sea!" 

"It  is  said  that  when  the  astronomer,  Herschel, 
directed  his  telescope  for  the  first  time  at  the  Milky 
Way,  the  dazzling  galaxies  of  suns  and  star  streams, 
impressed  him  with  such  wonder,  that  he  fainted 
away.  Now  if  the  astronomer,  who  already  has 
knowledge  of  a  plurality  of  worlds,  is  nevertheless 
awed  and  stricken  with  wonder,  how  much  more  so 
must  the  awakened  soul  marvel  at  the  secrets  of 
Creation.  Tonight  we  sit  under  an  October  sky. 
Sagittarius,  with  his  star  streams  is  rising  on  the  hor- 
izon. We  are  impressed  with  the  beauty  of  the  con- 
stellations and  the  configuration  of  the  star  groups. 
How  often,  on  similar  occasions  during  the  period  of 
youth  and  early  manhood,  did  you  direct  your  gaze 
upward  to  those  mute  sentinels  of  the  sky,  and  on 
summer  evenings,  wonder  if  that  great  zone  of  light 
revealed  greater  glories,  when  after  bursting  its 
bounds  in  Sagittarius,  it  continued  its  shining  way 
into  the  southern  hemisphere!" 

.  "Now  you  know  that  the  entire  universe  with  all 
its  stellar  wonders — its  suns  and  planets — star 
streams  and  inhabited  worlds — is  only  the  first  and 
lowest  order  of  nature,  the  physical  plane.  That  this 
wonder  that  God  reveals,  is  the  first  and  lowest  in  the 
scale  of  Creation.  That  as  the  soul  evolves,  glory 
after  glory  will  be  unveiled.  You  will  remember 
that  Simonides,  one  of  the  astral  players  and  also  an 


318        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

astronomer,  said  'that  there  were  depths  within  the 
human  heart  far  more  profound  in  mystery  and  truth 
than  these  great  gulfs  in  the  etheric  space,  that 
span  the  star  drifts  in  the  Milky  Way.'  This  wonder- 
ful declaration  is  absolutely  true.  Having  arived  at 
that  stage  of  unfoldment,  where  the  illusions  of  the 
physical  world  no  longer  affect  it,  the  awakened  soul 
not  being  entangled  in  physical  phenomena,  stands 
aside  from  it  and  views  impartially  the  Life  force  as 
it  manifests  itself  through  matter.  Then  turning 
within,  it  discovers  in  the  human  heart,  such  hidden 
recesses  of  beauty,  that  are  more  profound  and  won- 
derful than  those  great  depths  which  Simonides  de- 
clared, spanned  the  star  drifts  in  the  Milky  Way. 

"From  the  height  of  consciousness  that  you  have 
reached,  you  are  now  able  to  perceive  clearly  the 
reason  why  the  world  groans  in  travail  and  vexation 
of  spirit.  Humanity  as  a  whole,  will  not  trust  the 
Law.  It  imagines  the  prizes  of  Life  to  lie  in  the 
world  of  illusions.  Every  self  forgetting  impulse 
must  therefore  be  checked  in  its  inception,  otherwise 
the  soul  might  obey  some  higher  law,  that  would  di- 
rect its  energies  away  from  the  purely  material 
world,  and  this  in  such  an  age  as  the  present,  would 
be  disastrous.  By  such  a  course  the  prizes  of  the 
world  would  be  lost  and  the  man  be  deemed  a  vision- 
ary." 

"Thus,  in  as  far  as  it  obeys  the  voice  of  the 
world,  humanity  doubts  the  existence  of  the  spirit. 
It  even  fears  to  put  any  faith  at  all  in  the  invisible 
and  the  unseen.  So  it  buries  itself  deeper  and  deeper 
5n  matter,  and  hugs  the  chains  that  hold  it  captive; 
lest  perchance,  the  links  might  give  way  and  it  might, 
perforce  meet  new  conditions,  that  would  require 
such  readjustment  as  to  threaten  the  mode  of  life 
and  the  existing  form  of  society.  All  this,  in  the 
face  of  that  beloved  master,  the  Christ,  who  told 
them  to  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  justice, 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  319 

and  that  if  they  did  this,  what  things  they  needed  of 
a  physical  nature,  would  be  added  unto  them." 

"Thus,  as  humanity  enshrouds  itself  deeper  and 
deeper  in  matter,  it  clings  so  desperately  to  the 
physical  life  and  its  cherished  world  of  illusions,  that 
no  light  from  the  spiritual  planes  can  pierce  the 
thick  veils  of  matter  in  which  it  is  entombed.  Al- 
though the  light  shines  around  it  from  every  corner 
of  the  universe,  it  can  not  enter  the  spaceless  cham- 
bers of  the  soul,  for  the  soul  has  erected  a  barrier 
through  which  the  light  cannot  penetrate.  Thus  the 
world  remains  in  astral  shadow,  because  it  chooses 
the  tenebraes  and  the  darkness.  Knowing  nothing  of 
a  plane  of  life  above  the  physical,  the  great  masses 
of  humanity  must  suffer  the  tortures  that  are  put 
upon  them  from  the  fact  that  they  have  pinned  their 
faith  to  a  world  of  illusions." 

Here  Herminio  paused,  and  in  the  silence  that  fol- 
lowed, Anthony  felt  the  majesty  of  the  truth. 

"Good  master,"  he  finally  said,  "is  there  any  hope 
for  humanity  in  the  future,  and  to  what  extent  are 
souls  protected  from  astral  tenebraes,  that  have 
really  awakened  into  Life?" 

"My  son,"  replied  the  seer,  "you  have  asked  two 
questions  in  one,  and  I  must  answer  them  separately. 
First,  you  wish  to  know  if  there  is  any  hope  for  hu- 
manity in  the  future.  This  question  I  can  answer  in 
the  affirmative.  Even  now  there  are  souls  in  the 
world  who  function  wholly  in  the  higher  conscious- 
ness. Of  these,  you  are  one.  You,  and  other  noble 
souls  who  have  reached  to  this  higher  consciousness, 
are  indeed  the  pioneers  of  the  Race.  The  object  of 
your  lives,  is  to  so  charge  the  astral  currents  with 
the  quality  of  your  thought,  that  other  souls  verging 
toward  the  light,  may  be  aided  and  encouraged;  so 
that  the  number  of  pioneers  would  be  thereby 


320        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

increased  in  a  geometrical  ration,  to  effect  this  work 
of  redemption  for  the  Race." 

"Now,  in  the  second  part  of  your  question,  you 
wish  to  know  to  what  extent,  awakened  souls  are 
protected  from  astral  tenebraes?" 

"To  this  question,  I  will  answer,  that  the  protect- 
ing influence  thrown  around  evolving  souls,  is  purely 
occult.  The  aroma  of  their  lives  and  actions,  reach- 
ing the  higher  planes,  vibrates  in  unison  with  the 
higher  spiritual  forces,  who  in  turn  send  counter 
vibrations  of  such  a  nature  as  to  counteract  any  low 
vibrations  of  the  earth  plane.  Thus  are  they  pro- 
tected by  unseen  Powers  from  the  higher  realms  of 
Being.  Milton  says: 

"So  dear  to  heaven  is  saintly  chastity 
That  when  a  soul  is  found  sincerely  so 
A  thousand  liveried  angels  lackey  her." 

So  fares  it  with  the  neopyte  and  all  souls  that  have 
awakened  into  Life.  The  protecting  arm  of  a  law, 
that  has  its  origin  in  the  higher  realms  of  Being,  is 
constantly  thrown  around  them.  At  times,  the  work 
which  they  perform,  is  condemned  by  the  voice  of  the 
world  and  they  are  censured  and  blamed  for  their  ac- 
tions. But  this  is  only  in  the  seeming,  for  in  the  due 
course  of  time  other  events  occur,  which  prove  the 
absolute  justice  of  their  actions.  So  completely  are 
they  exonerated,  that  even  the  voice  of  the  world  is 
forced  to  admit  the  righteousness  of  their  cause." 

"Not  only  are  the  awakened  souls  protected  from 
calumny  and  slander,  but  what  is  more  wonderful 
still,  they  are  protected  from  physical  danger.  There 
is  no  instance  on  record  where  a  disciple  of  occultism 
has  ever  met  death  by  violence.  They  always  live  to 
a  ripe  age  and  die  a  natural  death.  Nature  is  kind  to 
the  children  of  her  heart.  Living  abstemiously  and  in 
compliance  with  the  higher  laws  of  Being,  the  body 
finally  wears  out  and  physical  death  follows  as  peace- 
fully as  a  little  child  falling  asleep." 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  321 

'Then  all  this  results  from  the  fact,  that  the 
awakened  soul  has  placed  full  confidence  in  the  law?" 
asked  the  attentive  Anthony. 

"You  have  said  it,  my  son,"  replied  the  seer. 
"When  the  soul  reaches  that  stage  of  its  evolution, 
it  is  bound  to  do  this.  It  can  follow  no  other  course. 
It  must  trust  the  higher  spiritual  forces  that  are  now 
directing  its  destiny.  Hence  the  voice  of  the  world  is 
no  longer  heeded.  The  main  springs  of  its  life  and 
activities,  now  lie  in  the  unseen.  It  is  here  that  it 
finds  the  concealed  'Fountains  of  Living  Water,'  that 
assuage  its  insatiable  thirst  for  wisdom.  Having 
overcome  the  emotions  of  the  human  heart, — that 
poor  human  heart  that  suffered  so  fearfully  in  the 
world  of  illusions — it  has  found  the  power  of  retiring 
within  its  own  consciousness,  and  there  finds  the  an- 
swer to  every  question — the  solution  to  every  riddle. 
The  knowledge  it  gains  on  these  higher  levels,  being 
absolute  and  not  relative,  makes  this  information  cer- 
tain. There  can  be  no  mistake.  In  these  inner  re- 
cesses of  the  consciousness,  the  soul  has  found  its 
only  and  everlasting  security.  From  the  symbols  and 
thought  forms  that  are  projected  before  its  astral 
vision,  to  the  opening  glories  of  the  Picture  World, 
is  the  soul  ushered  into  life.  Functioning  less  and 
less  in  the  physical,  it  hails  with  joy  those  precious 
hours  when  it  retires  within  itself,  to  contemplate  on 
the  richness  of  its  life  and  the  mysteries  of  Being! 
What  truths  are  made  manifest  to  its  inner  faculties 
and  what  glories  are  revealed  to  its  astral  vision, 
only  the  saints  and  prophets  know!  Its  ecstasies  and 
transports  in  these  super  mental  regions,  are  such 
processes  that  can  be  described  and  appreciated  only 
by  other  illuminated  souls,  on  similar  levels  of  Spirit. 

"Then  there  is  a  relationship  in  consciousness, 
and  the  tie  that  binds  this  relationship  must  be 
strong  indeed?"  interrupted  Anthony. 


322        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

"My  son,"  replied  the  seer,  "the  mystical  tie  that 
binds  kindred  souls  in  spiritual  communion  is  of  an 
occult  nature,  and  is  therefore  not  understood  by  the 
Children  of  the  World  who  dwell  in  astral  shadow. 
This  subject  is  of  such  a  nature  and  requires  so  much 
elaboration  and  detail  to  explain  it  clearly,  that  we 
will  not  take  it  up  now,  for  the  night  grows  late  and 
we  must  retire.  The  subject,  however,  is  of  great  in- 
terest and  I  will  take  great  pleasure  in  explaining  it 
to  you  fully  on  another  evening." 


CHAPTER  XX. 
CONCLUSION. 

"My  son,"  said  Herminio,  as  they  seated  them- 
selves within  the  inclosure  on  the  following  evening, 
"your  soul  has  now  reached  that  point  in  its  evolu- 
tion where  it  must  rely  on  its  inner  promptings  for 
its  future  guidance.  For  the  time  will  soon  come 
when  I  can  give  you  no  further  personal  instruction, 
for  I  will  cease  to  function  in  physical  form.  In  my 
case  the  Fates  have  been  unusually  kind,  for  I  have 
lived  a  long  life  and  played  my  part  in  the  World  of 
Form.  The  subject  of  our  discourse  tonight,  was  to 
be  on  the  nature  of  that  mystical  tie  that  binds  the 
members  of  the  occult  hierarchy  in  that  mysterious 
unity  of  thought  and  action,  linking  them  together 
in  one  body  and  making  them  One  in  mind  and 
Spirit." 

"At  the  outset  I  will  declare,"  continued  Herminio, 
"that  this  mystical  tie  is  of  an  eternal  nature,  and 
does  not  change  with  the  passing  of  Time.  In  this 
respect  it  is  unlike  the  human  ties  of  flesh  and  blood 
in  the  physical  world.  Now  the  tie  that  binds  hus- 
band and  wife,  parent  and  child,  brother  and  sister, 
are  sacred  though  they  are  for  the  most  part,  of  a 
physical  nature  only.  This  is  at  it  should  be.  But  on 
a  little  reflection,  you  will  see  that  these  ties  are 
merely  relative.  For  example,  we  may  refer  to  a 
brother  and  sister;  they  are  raised  together  from  in- 
fancy, sharing  everything  in  common.  On  attaining 
his  majority,  the  brother  leaves  the  home,  the  sister 
marries  and  they  drift  apart.  Each  one  is  playing 


324        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

his  part  in  a  world  of  changing  forms.  Though  they 
meet  in  later  years,  the  old  influences  have  not  the 
same  power  over  them  as  in  the  days  of  childhood. 
Each  one  of  them  is  striving  for  a  different  ideal,  so 
that  there  is  no  unity  in  consciousness.  Parent  and 
child  likewise  undergo  the  same  experience.  The 
shifting  scenes  of  the  world  of  illusions,  lead  them 
into  separate  fields  of  activity.  Parental  and  filial 
love  becomes  merely  a  memory  and  sometimes  that 
memory  is  obliterated.  Lastly,  we  will  take  the  near- 
est and  most  sacred  of  all  relationships — that  of  hus- 
band and  wife.  Here  one  would  imagine,  that  in  so 
close  a  relationship — in  so  sacred  a  union — of  two  in 
one  flesh,  the  tie  that  binds  would  be  of  a  more  last- 
ing nature.  But  what  do  we  find?  On  the  death  of 
one  of  the  parties,  the  survivor  is  free  to  contract 
another  union,  thus  proving  beyond  all  doubt  that 
the  union  was  purely  physical,  in  which  the  higher 
consciousness  played  little,  or  no  part." 

"Thus  we  find  that  certain  souls  who  reach  the 
higher  consciousness,  segregate  themselves  and  join 
certain  religious  Orders  to  escape  contact  with  the 
world.  In  some  of  these  communities,  the  family 
name  and  even  the  baptismal  name  is  given  up,  so 
that  thereby  the  appellation  by  which  the  member  is 
known,  does  not  call  up  any  memory  or  tie  of  the 
past ;  for  it  is  taken  for  granted  that  the  bond  which 
now  unites  it  to  the  Universal  Mind  and  the  higher 
consciousness,  is  far  above  any  human  tie  which  it 
bore  in  the  World  of  Illusions.  Not  only  do  the  regu- 
lations of  these  orders  tend  to  obliterate  the  memory 
of  physical  and  family  ties,  but  they  go  even  further. 
At  the  death  bed  scene  of  a  member  of  these  Orders, 
the  family  is  not  admitted.  Flesh  and  blood  rela- 
tionships are  ignored.  The  passing  soul  is  related 
only  to  God,  the  Author  of  its  Being.  Having  lived  a 
life  of  poverty,  chastity  and  obedience,  in  compliance 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  325 

with  the  vows  that  the  Order  demanded,  its  relation- 
ship to  the  Higher  Powers,  is  the  only  relationship 
that  the  Order  recognizes.  I  need  not  point  out  the 
salutary  effect  of  such  a  course.  The  passing  soul, 
wrapped  in  its  visions  and  ecstasies,  sees  only  God! 
Why  should  the  relatives,  who  have  all  their  lives 
functioned  in  a  material  world,  who  praised  God  with 
their  lips,  but  never  with  their  hearts,  be  present  at 
such  a  spectacle?  Is  it  not  meet  and  just  that  this 
particular  regulation  of  such  Orders  be  given  the 
highest  praise?  Does  not  such  a  course  prove  that 
the  only  true  and  lasting  relationship,  is  that  which 
exists  between  souls  who  have  reached  the  Higher 
Consciousness?  Hence  it  is  that  the  relationship  I 
bear  to  you,  and  that  you  bear  to  me,  will  endure  for- 
ever throughout  the  countless  aeons  of  the  Future! 
Being  founded  in  consciousness,  it  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  changing  illusions  of  a  purely  Physical 
World.  A  little  while  ago  I  told  you  that  my  stay  with 
you  would  be  short.  Two  more  years  of  earth  life  is 
all  that  remains  for  me.  I  know  the  exact  day  and 
hour  of  my  dissolution.  I  do  not  fear  death.  I  am  to 
be  delivered  from  a  body  in  which  my  soul  is  impris- 
oned. After  my  passing  you  will  require  no  personal 
instructions  from  anyone.  There  are  souls  in  the 
flesh  who  function  on  still  higher  planes  than  I,  but 
you  will  never  meet  them  personally.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary. After  my  demise  you  will  be  instructed  by 
these  greater  Souls  through  the  Picture  World.  Af- 
ter that,  other  means  still  more  wonderful  will  be 
at  your  command.  Of  this  I  will  not  speak,  for  it 
will  follow  and  be  made  most  clear  to  you  by  the  aid 
of  your  super  mental  and  astral  faculties,  which  will 
be  your  certain  guides  in  the  future." 

"As  you  have  come  to  me  to  be  taught  the  se- 
crets of  Creation  and  the  mysteries  of  Life,  so  others 


326        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

will  come  to  you  for  advice  and  instruction.  The  in- 
quirer becomes  a  pupil,  the  pupil  a  teacher  and  the 
teacher  an  adept.  Thus  there  are  ascending  grades 
of  consciousness,  from  the  worm  that  crawls  on  the 
slimy  earth  to  the  glorious  Archangel  who  stands  on 
the  shining  parapets  of  Heaven !" 

"Anthony  Colombo,  you  have  reached  a  stage  in 
your  evolution  to  which  ordinary  men  have  not  at- 
tained. To  your  Higher  Vision  there  has  been  re- 
vealed such  glories  and  beauties  of  Creation,  as  be- 
comes the  reward  of  the  seer  and  prophet.  You  are 
now  related  to  that  Hierarchy  of  Beings,  who  not 
only  command  the  forces  of  the  visible  universe,  but 
set  in  motion  by  their  mighty  thought,  such  vibra- 
tions on  the  Higher  Planes  of  Being,  that  coming 
within  the  sphere  of  your  astral  vision,  you  are  con- 
stantly reminded  of  the  relationship  they  bear  to  you, 
and  that  you  bear  to  them. 

"Thus  are  you  kept  in  constant  touch  with  those 
mighty  Intelligences  that  guard  the  humanity  of  this 
Planet,  and  lead  it  on  to  its  glorious  destiny.  From 
this  time  forward  your  work  is  to  help  struggling 
.souls  who  are  coming  into  Life,  to  sen^  them  helpful 
thoughts  and  encouragement.  For  the  next  two 
years  must  you  occupy  yourself  in  this  way.  At  the 
*nd  of  that  time  my  death  will  occur.  You  will  be 
alone  in  this  heritage  for  a  period  of  years.  But  you 
will  never  be  lonely.  It  matters  not  to  you  where 
you  live,  for  you  will  function  so  much  in  astral 
body,  that  the  whole  world  becomes  your  home  while 
this  rude  dwelling  only  shelters  your  physical  form. 
Having  overcome  the  emotions  of  the  human  heart, 
you  have  risen  above  the  plane  of  sorrow  and  suffer- 
ing and  your  only  desire  and  your  only  joy  is  to  so 
aid  humanity  to  rise  from  its  sorrows  and  heart- 
aches, that  are  caused  by  its  imprisonment  in  a  World 
of  Illusions.  To  this  end  must  you  bend  every  fac- 
ulty of  Will,  and  every  thought  of  your  Being.  Have 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  327 

no  fear  of  the  Future,  for  there  is  nothing  to  feac 
In  the  latter  years  of  your  life  you  will  have  many 
pupils.  AH  that  I  have  explained  to  you,  you  will 
explain  to  them,  for  as  your  inner  faculties  develop 
greater  beauties  and  mysteries  will  be  revealed,  and 
glory  after  glory  will  be  unveiled." 

As  the  seer  spoke  these  last  words,  he  turned  his 
gaze  upward  and  bade  Anthony  do  the  same.  At 
some  distance  above  them  a  marvelous  picture  began 
to  form  in  the  darkness.  It  was  illuminated  by  a 
golden  colored  light,  which  also  formed  the  back- 
ground. In  the  center  appeared  a  little  child  stand- 
ing upright  with  outstretched  hands  and  palms  up- 
lifted. Then  a  female  form  advanced  toward  the 
child  and  laid  upon  its  palms,  a  laurel  wreath;  all 
the  while  beaming  upon  it  with  benignity  and  com- 
passion. Above  the  two  figures  a  dove  hovered, 
poised  and  motionless  with  outspread  wings,  while 
two  shafts  of  white  light  streamed  from  its  pinions 
and  rested  gently  on  the  head  of  the  child  and  the 
woman. 

"The  child,  said  Herminio,  represents  the  awak- 
ened soul,  standing  before  Wisdom  represented  by 
the  female  figure.  She  gives  the  soul  a  laurel  wreath 
emblematical  of  victory  over  its  lower  nature.  The 
dove  signifies  peace  and  love  with  which  the  awak- 
ened soul  will  be  in  its  future  surrounded.  Let  us 
raise  our  hands  in  adoration." 

At  this  admonition  Anthony  raised  his  hands,  as 
did  the  seer.  With  streaming  eyes  he  beheld  the 
picture  move  from  right  to  left  across  the  field  of 
vision.  In  the  silence  of  the  night  it  disappeared 
from  view  and  the  seer  and  his  pupil  were  left  with 
outstretched  hands,  enveloped  in  the  darkness. 
***** 

Anthony  Colombo  has  reached  that  height  in  his 
soul's  evolution,  to  which  all  humanity  must  in  the 


328         THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

far  away  future  inevitably  tend.  As  a  pioneer  in  the 
Realm  of  the  Unknown,  it  becomes  his  bounden  duty 
to  instruct  all  illuminated  souls  on  the  perilous  way 
through  the  tenebrous  regions  that  lead  them  finally 
from  the  Plane  of  Illusions  into  Reality;  introducing 
them  by  almost  imperceptible  degrees  into  the  beau- 
tiful phenomena  of  the  Astral  and  the  Picture  World, 
bringing  down  upon  them,  wisdom  and  illumination, 
resulting  ultimately  in  seership. 
***** 

Patient  Reader,  you  are  a  part  of  that  great  Life 
that  animates  the  Universe  of  Spirit.  The  problem 
that  confronted  Anthony  Colombo,  the  Sicilian 
scholar,  will  confront  you  in  time.  It  is  an  event 
foreknown.  It  is  written  in  the  Chart  of  your  Des- 
tiny. You  cannot  escape.  For  the  day  will  come 
and  the  hour  will  strike  when  your  Personality  will 
suffer  crucifixion  on  the  Cross  of  Matter.  It  is  the 
Universal  Fate.  There  is  no  exception.  Through  the 
emotions  and  the  intellect  you  will  suffer  tortures 
that  no  human  tongue  can  describe.  But  be  stout  of 
heart,  for  the  ordeal  must  be  endured.  It  is  the  pur- 
pose of  Nature.  The  death  throes  of  the  Personality 
are  the  birth  pangs  of  the  Spirit.  With  the  extinc- 
tion of  the  Personality,  you  will  sever  your  connec- 
tion with  the  Physical  World.  Its  deceits  and  sham 
pleasures  will  no  longer  attract  you,  for  you  will  have 
learned  that  its  greatest  honors  and  its  highest 
awards  are  attended  with  vanity  and  vexation  of 
spirit.  And  that  even  its  joys  are  unreal,  for  they 
belong  and  appertain  to  that  World  of  Form,  which 
your  illuminated  understanding  will  regard  as  the 
merest  of  illusions. 

Thus  freed  from  the  Pairs  of  Opposites — liber- 
ated from  the  sway  of  the  emotions — you  will  enter 
higher  realms  of  Being  and  be  made  aware  of  your 
relationship  to  those  mighty  Intelligences,  that  are 


A  MYSTIC  NARRATIVE  329 

in  turn  united  in  consciousness  to  still  greater  Hier- 
archies and  Orders,  whose  number  is  infinite.  By 
occult  processes  they  will  guide  your  future  Destiny. 
You  will  be  given  power  to  interpret  the  beautiful 
symbol  and  color  language  of  the  astral  plane. 
Through  the  marvelous  phenomena  of  the  Picture 
World,  you  will  be  given  the  gift  of  Prophecy.  You 
will  experience  the  ecstasies  of  the  Saint  and  Psalm- 
ist, and  be  able  to  forecast  the  coming  of  events,  as 
were  the  Seers  and  Prophets  of  Isaiah! 

What  a  future  is  thine,  Oh  Man!  Can  the  Soul 
in  the  present  Age,  enveloped  as  it  is  in  astral  tene- 
braes,  appreciate  so  grand  a  conception?  Can  it  be 
brought  to  realize  that  the  mighty  Cosmos  with  its 
whirling  suns  and  worlds,  its  nebulae  and  star 
streams,  belong  to  the  lowest  order  of  Nature — the 
Physical  Plane — that  to  the  higher  consciousness, 
the  Universe  is  as  nothing — a  phantasm ;  for  it  fades 
from  the  consciousness  of  the  newly  awakened  soul, 
as  mist  before  the  sun,  in  comparison  with  the  su- 
pernal glories  that  are  to  be  unveiled! 

From  the  discords  of  physical  Life  you  will  have 
reached  to  the  Harmonies  of  Creation.  In  the  inner 
shrine  of  your  heart — the  hidden  sanctuary — you 
will  receive  vibrations  from  a  formless  world!  You 
will  attain  to  heights  far  past  the  poet's  dream,  for 
you  will  have  become  one  with  the  Seer.  But  being 
a  part  of  the  Great  Life,  you  cannot  forget  humanity. 
Each  struggling  soul,  bruised  and  wounded  by  the 
world,  that  comes  to  you  for  advice  and  guidance,  is 
always  worthy  of  knowledge.  Your  duty  will  be  to 
help  them.  This  will  be  your  life  work.  It  is  a  duty 
imposed  on  you  by  the  very  Powers  you  will  have 
evoked  by  your  call  for  knowledge.  Do  not  waver 
from  this  responsibility.  You  cannot  evade  it.  You 
will  be  given  great  powers,  but  you  can  not  remain 
a  sealed  vessel — you  must  be  an  open  channel — 


330        THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ASTRAL 

admitting  the  light  of  knowledge  within  your  heart, 
you  are  bound  in  conscience  to  open  the  doors  of  its 
hidden  chambers  and  let  it  stream  forth  in  all  its 
effulgence  and  splendor  upon  the  humblest  soul  that 
comes  to  you  in  the  critical  time  of  its  awakening. 
Then  it  is  that  you  become  the  mysterious  physician 
with  the  balm  of  Gilead,  healing  the  Soul  of  the 
wounds  it  received  in  the  world. 

And  the  more  you  give,  the  more  you  will  receive. 
What  a  wonder  is  here!  Not  swayed  by  joy  or  sor- 
row; not  affected  by  that  eternal  Pair  of  Opposites 
which  formed  the  background  of  your  life,  when  you 
functioned  only  in  a  physical  world,  the  motives 
that  will  impel  you  to  action  will  come  from  a  Form- 
less Plane.  By  invisible  forces  you  will  be  protected 
from  all  danger  even  in  the  physical  world.  For  you 
now  belong  to  that  greater  Hierarchy  of  Beings  who 
are  the  real  children  of  Nature.  You  will  be  a  child 
of  her  heart.  Having  made  the  Unity  with  the  Self — 
with  the  Universal  Mind — you  will  have  reached  to 
that  Plane  of  Consciousness  toward  which  aspiring 
souls  in  all  ages,  have  ever  striyed  to  gain.  There, 
in  a  state  of  bliss,  a  never  ending  bliss,  beyond  all 
human  thought,  you  will  rest  secure  in  a  perpetual 
state  of  Everlasting  Love  and  Peace. 

THE    END. 


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